


Candlelight

by mormolyce



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-06-26 08:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15659388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mormolyce/pseuds/mormolyce
Summary: After the Halloween party, Julie Hubble finds herself stranded at Cackle's Academy. In the months that follow, she ends up spending more and more time with Miss Hardbroom, rarely of her own accord.





	1. Chapter 1

“I simply cannot send you out there in good conscience Miss Hubble, especially at this time of night.”

“But surely,” exclaimed Julie, struggling to keep pace with Ada and desperate to avoid falling in with the gaggle of teachers that were following, “There must be something you can do? You know, magic me away or something? My shift starts at half-nine tomorrow and it’ll take me an hour to get home as it is.”

“There is a reason we fly brooms, Miss Hubble,” drawled Hecate from a few feet behind.

Julie wrinkled her nose and looked at Ada for assistance.

“Transferring another person uses up a lot of magic,” explained Ada gently, “And despite everything, we don’t have very much of that around at the moment.”

She rounded a corner and the corridor narrowed, pushing them into single file.

“But surely you must be able to do something?” continued Julie, “I’ve already said goodnight to Millie and, no offence anyone, but I’m not too keen on cold porridge.”

Hecate glowered at the back of Julie’s head. Ada turned another corner nonplussed and the teaching staff, plus ordinary parent, snaked along behind her.

“Someone could send you back tomorrow, if you like? Once we’ve had time to rest?” offered Miss Drill from the centre of the line.

Julie gave an unenthusiastic ‘hmm’, but Ada nodded firmly. The corridor widened and the group fanned out, obediently following their matriarch until they came to a halt outside her office door. Ada unlocked it and strode over to her desk confidently. The other teaching staff funnelled into the room, pushing Julie up against a bookcase. Ada turned to face them, leaning back on her desk.

“Right,” she began, “I want to start by thanking everyone for their support today, and with this evening’s festivities. I know Halloween didn’t go quite as we planned-”, there were a few snorts and a general mumble of agreement, “But I’m really impressed by the way everyone pulled together. The girls had a wonderful night and quite frankly so did I. Should you get the chance, I would like to ask each of you to thank Miss Tapioca personally for her foresight. I am sure we all appreciated the plentiful rations of mulled wine.”

There were a few more mumbles of agreement and a hiccup from Algernon, who stood at the back of the room, ardently holding onto Gwen’s sleeve. Hecate clicked her tongue and muttered something under her breath. Julie caught Dimity rolling her eyes.

“I suggest at the next staff meeting we get her a small present, I’ll take any recommendations in the morning. Now,” continued Ada, “Given the poor flying conditions and the unholy state of the hiking trail at the moment, it has been suggested that we allow Miss Hubble to stay the night. If anyone wants to take her in, now would be the time to speak up.”

Julie opened her mouth in protest, but shut it again before she could say anything to jeopardise her immediate future. ‘Take her in’ she thought, scoffing. What was she to them, a stray dog?

“Count us out!” exclaimed Algernon brightly, “Our quarters are plenty cramped enough as it is. Come on love, see you in the morning all!”

“Algernon!” exclaimed Gwen, caught at the perilous crossroads between embarrassment and anger. “I am so sorry, Miss Hubble,” she continued, as she was dragged out the room by her zealous boyfriend, “He isn’t usually like this, I think the wine’s gone to his head. Algernon! Algernon, you get back in here and apologise! I don’t know what you’re playing at bu-”

Gwen’s voice cut off suddenly and a series of wet kissing noises echoed in from the corridor. Hecate grimaced and with a flick of her wrist the office door slammed shut angrily. Dimity and Ada glanced at each other and exchanged a wry smile; Julie covered her mouth with her hand and tried not to giggle too loudly.

“Well,” said Ada, “That’s that then.”

“You can stay with me,” offered Dimity, placing one hand on her hip and looking over at Julie. “If you'd like.”

“Oh, yes,” sneered Hecate, “And wake-up impaled by a vintage javelin. Fine way to repay Mildred for her efforts that would be.”

“Hecate that was _one time_ ,” exclaimed Dimity with exasperation, “And I’ve blunted them since then.”

“My,” said Hecate sarcastically, “That is reassuring.”

Julie glanced nervously between the two teachers and then back at Ada.

“I’m afraid she may have a point, Dimity.”

“What? Ada, my quarters are safe as houses and you know it.”

“Aside from the throwing knives, of course,” sniffed Hecate.

“Hecate, you are _not_ helping!”

Ada pursed her lips and looked at Julie.

“What do you think, dear?”

Dimity looked at her anxiously.

“I’m very grateful for the offer Miss Drill,” began Julie, clearing her throat, “But I’m clumsy enough at the best of times, and I really, really, don’t want to give Millie anything else to worry about.”

“Well, thanks a lot, _Hecate,_ ” exhaled Dimity, as snappy as Ethel Hallow. She flung the door open and stormed out of the room, her marching footsteps reverberating down the hall.

Hecate sniffed and stood up a little straighter. Ada stared at her pointedly.

“What?” asked Hecate, voice high in defensiveness, “I wasn’t inaccurate.”

“Perhaps,” admitted Ada slowly, “But there was no need to be quite so… incisive.”

Hecate pursed her lips and looked at the ground, raising her eyebrows in a way that indicated she felt her incisiveness was perfectly necessary.

“Still,” continued Ada, with a sly smile, “Seeing as you’re so dedicated to Miss Hubble’s safety, perhaps it would be best for her to stay with you.”

Hecate lifted her gaze and glared at the headmistress.

“They are the largest of staff quarters, after all. And the closest to Mildred’s room, if I recall correctly.”

“That…” Hecate’s lips twisted as she attempted to find an escape route.

“They are the closest to Mildred’s room, aren’t they?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“That settles it then!” interrupted Ada brightly, bringing her hands together and stepping forward. “Miss Hubble,” she continued, turning to Julie and smiling brightly, “If you’d be so kind as to follow Miss Hardbroom, then I’m sure the appropriate arrangements shall be made for both a comfortable stay and your safe journey home tomorrow morning. Won’t they, Hecate?”

Hecate glared at her like a sulky teenager; Ada beamed back, practically radiating.

“Follow me, Miss Hubble,” spat Hecate, without breaking eye-contact with Ada. Julie glanced back at the headmistress warily, but Ada simply gave a cheery wave and a jovial smile.

“Goodnight ladies!”

Hecate exhaled and stormed out the room, Julie nipping at her heels.

\---

The castle was a lot darker than Julie had anticipated. The small flame in Hecate’s palm allowed her to see no more than a few feet in front of them, and the shadows bouncing off the walls did nothing to alleviate her growing uneasiness.

“It’s quite ominous at night-time, isn’t it?” she attempted, smiling as brightly as she could manage.

“It is a _castle,_ Miss Hubble,” said Hecate flatly, “What were you expecting, five-star dining and a swimming pool?”

“How about electricity?” replied Julie, without missing a beat.

“Meaningless stuff,” scoffed Hecate. “I think you’ll find we manage perfectly fine without it.”

She stopped suddenly, hand reaching towards one of the doors that lined either side of the corridor.

“Miss Hardbroom?”

Hecate jumped slightly, mind switching off autopilot.

“Mildred’s room,” she explained, sagging a little as her eyebrows twisted apologetically. “Force of habit, I’m afraid.”

Julie frowned at her, affronted.

“Well, go on then,” she replied, voice taut. “Certainly, don’t let me stop you.”

Hecate sighed and laced her fingers around the door handle, opening it as gently as possible. She let go of the handle and stepped quietly into the room, the flame in her hands illuminating the otherwise darkened space. Mildred Hubble lay peacefully in her bed, mouth open, plaits flying out in either direction. Hecate watched her turn over and gave a small smile of relief - she owed this girl her life. She felt Julie approach from behind, and looked back to see her leaning against the door frame, staring at her daughter with doleful pride. Hecate looked at her softly.

“You can,” she said quietly, clearing her throat, “You can say goodnight again, if you’d like.”

“Oh my,” hummed Julie, “Divine benediction from the Pope herself, how will I ever repay you?”

Hecate went to unleash her teacher’s glare, but Julie flashed her a knowing smile and her face softened. She glided past Hecate, stepping gingerly into the room and leaning over her daughter’s bed.

“Goodnight sweetheart,” she whispered, dropping a small kiss on the top of Millie’s head, “I love you.”

Hecate was watching them intently from the door, but Julie stood upright, utterly oblivious, and gazed down at her daughter. Her tiny, scruffy, wonderful daughter. She had spent so long worrying about Millie, so many nights scraping by on food-bank supplies and her meagre medical school bursary; to see her daughter here, thriving, learning, growing and in all honesty doing oh so well (whatever Miss Hardbroom might say), brought Julie more joy than it was possible to imagine. She had done it, Millie had done it, everything… was right.

Hecate coughed slightly and Julie turned around. They exchanged a gentle glance, each looking at Mildred tenderly before making eye-contact and stiffening their posture. Hecate tilted her head in the direction of the corridor and Julie tiptoed out of the room, turning to blow Millie one more kiss before Hecate shut the door.

The walk was quiet after that, Hecate taking swift mechanical steps, Julie wafting along beside her. She wanted to asked Hecate why she had been so cruel to Mildred when she first arrived (although truth be told part of her knew why); why Hecate continued to behave so stiffly even though she clearly cared about Millie a great deal; why she was behaving so coldly towards herself now. It wasn’t as if Julie had requested to spend the night, and it was hardly her fault that the school had almost burnt - frozen? - down.

But then again, Julie wasn’t a teacher - she didn’t know the stress and strain it put on a person. Especially somewhere like Cackle’s, where pupils were free to break down their teachers’ doors at all hours of the night. She contemplated living with some of her patients and pulled a strained face. In a place like this you probably needed a cult of personality just to stay sane.

They turned a corner and the row of alternate doors disappeared. A few paces later Hecate came to a stop, standing outside a large door of unmarked oak. She flicked her wrist and the door unlocked, swinging open slowly, an ominous creak echoing from its hinges. The flame in Hecate’s hand went out, and for one mortified moment Julie thought she was going to be jumped by a gang of vengeful witches. It was like something out of a B-rated horror film.

Hecate drew her hands together and clapped twice, and suddenly the room was illuminated with scores of candles, each standing proud in their own metallic holder. They were dotted along the windowsill and the coffee table near the armchair, on the vanity and the bedside table, and, as the faint glow from the door to the left of them indicated, the ensuite as well. A small pile of books sat on the bedside table, and yet more on the coffee table and the shelf above the bed. For someone who had preached health and safety measures not fifteen minutes ago, Miss Hardbroom seemed to take an extremely laxed approach towards fire safety.

There was little decoration – a few bunches of dried herbs hanging upside-down by the window and a handful of framed pictures on the mantelpiece, charcoal sketches of plants that Julie didn’t recognise – but the space was clearly cared for. No dust had settled on the mantelpiece, nor any of the other surfaces, and not one drop of wax had fallen onto the candleholders. There was a faint smell of polish too, and the wood of the tables and vanity shone brightly in the orange glow. Hecate waved a hand in the direction of the mantelpiece and the fire spluttered to life.

Julie’s eyes widened and she swallowed, gazing around the room in awe; perhaps living in a boarding school wasn’t that bad after all. Hecate glanced down at her primly.

“As you can see, Miss Hubble,” she began, a glimmer of pride flitting across her face, “It is possible to cope perfectly well without ‘electricity.’” She strode into the room and sat heavily down at the vanity, leaning into the back of the chair and allowing her posture to sag. Julie shuffled in behind her and Hecate shut the door with a flick of her wrist. Julie didn’t even turn around.

“Well,” she said meekly, “It’s certainly very impressive.”

She cleared her throat and stood a little taller, wandering around the room. Hecate turned to face herself in the vanity mirror, and began the laborious task of unfurling her hair.

“We’re going to have to do something about that bed though,” said Julie, poking her head into the bathroom.

“Yes,” replied Hecate, rolling her eyes and twisting in her seat. “I had thought of that. If you would be so kind as to push the bedside table-” Julie turned around and gestured to the appropriate piece of furniture. “Yes, that one,” continued Hecate, as if she were talking to a student, “Up against that corner over there, then we should have enough space.”

Julie dragged the bedside table into the corner cautiously, too afraid of setting herself on fire to argue.

“Thank you. _We tonight provide shelter for Mistress Hubble,_ ” began Hecate drearily, waving her hands at the bed. _“And of this bed we need a double.”_

The bed didn’t budge. They exchanged a glance and Hecate pursed her lips, standing up and striding to the foot of the bed. One long strand of hair dangled unflatteringly over her shoulder.

“ _We tonight provide shelter for Mistress Hubble,”_ she repeated pointedly, glaring at the bed, “ _And of this bed we need a double.”_

There was a loud whooshing noise and a duplicate bed appeared alongside the original, almost smacking Julie in the thighs. Hecate exhaled and flopped down into the armchair at her side, breathing heavily from the effort. Julie stared at her cautiously.

“You see now why Miss Cackle did not attempt to send you home,” said Hecate, resting an elbow on the side of the chair and holding her forehead in one palm.

“Yes,” replied Julie, looking at her solemnly. Hecate took a few steady breaths, before looking up and resting her chin on her palm.

“I don’t suppose,” Julie continued, clearing her throat, “You’ve got enough magic left to duplicate a toothbrush?”

Hecate rolled her head back, apparently deciding her eyes were not expressive enough. She sighed heavily and dropped her hand.

“Very well, Miss Hubble,” she said flatly, as if she were doing Julie a great favour opposed to protecting her own stringent hygiene routine. “If you insist.”

She pushed herself up from the chair, yet more strands of hair falling astray. Julie followed her, weaving between the furniture in the now decidedly cramped room.

The bathroom was much like the bedroom, clean and orderly, awash with candlelight that bounced off white tiles from all directions. Above the sink was an enormous cabinet with glass doors, behind which sat rows upon rows of unlabelled bottles. They were all clear, some as tall as Julie’s hand and some as small as her little finger, each partially filled with liquids of various shades and viscosity. Hecate’s wooden toothbrush sat neatly in a cup on the sink, a small bar of soap next to it. She pursed her lips and looked over at Julie appraisingly, making sure Mildred’s mother knew the trouble she was putting her through.

“ _Toothbrush sitting in the cup, provide us now a duplicate.”_

The duplicate toothbrush, far smaller and more obliging than the bed, whooshed itself into existence with minimal fuss, and Hecate snatched it out the cup the moment it materialised. She handed it to Julie purposefully.

“Do not,” she began, her ‘teacher voice’ taking over once more, “Put it back in the cup.”

Julie raised an eyebrow, swallowing a comment about Hecate’s abysmal rhyming skills.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said sarcastically, plucking the toothbrush from her grasp.

Hecate huffed and bustled back into the bedroom, lacking the energy for even a withering look.

“Tell me when you’re finished,” she said flatly, shutting the door. Julie hurried over to it and attempted to find a lock, but after about ten seconds of searching realised that of course there wasn’t one. She ran the toothbrush under the tap and sighed, deciding it would be within her best interests to avoid harassing Mildred’s teacher further in the pursuit of toothpaste. She brushed her teeth glumly and, as instructed, placed the duplicate toothbrush on the edge of the sink. The water was freezing when she ran the tap to wash her face, and, she noted forlornly, made no indent on her steadfast waterproof mascara.

The toilet provided the biggest challenge, Julie realising all too late that there were not one but four long chains hanging off the top of the water tank. It was embarrassing enough that she’d almost had to call for help finding the loo roll, but this was one misadventure she was determined to forgo. She closed the toilet lid gently and washed her hands, grateful that at least soap appeared to be a universal concept.

“I’m really sorry, Miss Hardbroom,” she began as she opened the door, “But I’m afraid I couldn’t- Oh! Miss Hardbroom!” Her tone shifting immediately from weariness to awe. “Your hair is magnificent!”

Hecate jumped in her seat and pulled her chin back, lips curling downwards uncomfortably. It was all well and good receiving compliments when you were showing off, but this caught her decidedly unawares. She coughed a little and shifted in her seat, tugging on the collar of her dressing gown.

“Thank… you,” she said slowly, putting her comb on the vanity. Julie practically skipped behind her and rested her hands on the back of the chair.

“May I?” she asked, gesturing to the strands of hair that were hanging loose down her back.

“Miss Hubble, I don’t see what interest my hair could possibly hold for you,” replied Hecate primly, desperate to swallow her own embarrassment.

“My sister’s a cosmetologist,” explained Julie, lifting a strand of Hecate’s hair from the bottom so that it wouldn’t tug on her scalp. Hecate didn’t know what that meant but nodded anyway, too stunned to shove Julie off. She glanced at herself in the mirror, watching her own strained face as Julie looked down at her in admiration.

“Is this its natural colour?”

“Magic is not something one uses for aesthetics, Miss Hubble,” replied Hecate, voice taut.

“I’ve never seen anyone with such strong hair,” mumbled Julie, without bothering to explain the concept of box dyes. “And thick as well.”

She used two fingers to wrap the hair around gently, then let it drop into her open palm, watching in amazement as it fell into a perfect loose curl.

“There are women who would sell their souls for hair like this,” she said breathily.

“Yes, well,” replied Hecate stiffly, “Despite what your daughter may have told you, I’m not in the business of souls. The business of teaching is more than enough trouble.”

Julie dropped her hair and stared at Hecate agog, but Hecate merely stood up and marched into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly.

“Miss Hardbroom!” shouted Julie suddenly, lurching forward before she gave the teacher yet another reason to despise her daughter.

“What!?” snapped Hecate, flinging the door open and sticking her head out.

“I erm,” Julie began, coughing slightly, “I couldn’t quite figure out which erm… The toilet is rather complicated compared to ordinary ones, so I erm… I felt it would be best to do nothing at all.”

“Well,” sniffed Hecate haughtily, “At least _some_ of your traits are different from those of your daughter.”

She shut the door, without thanking Julie for the warning, and marched over to the toilet, pulling the appropriate chain without even lifting the lid. ‘The toilet is rather complicated.’ Hecate snorted, what a ridiculous concept.

She plucked her toothbrush out the cup, noting somewhat begrudgingly that Julie had followed her instructions to the letter. With a flick of her wrist the cabinet opened, and she reached inside, pulling out a tall thin container full of blue liquid. She dunked the end of her toothbrush inside and screwed the cap back firmly, replacing it exactly. The liquid foamed as she brushed her teeth, and she ran the brush meticulously under the tap once she was finished.

She now fished out a small vile of pink liquid, a glass nib sitting daintily beneath the lid. She unscrewed the cap and filled the nib, dropping a few beads of liquid into her palm. It changed to purple the moment it hit her skin, and she lathered it with her hands before rubbing it across her face. In mere seconds for her makeup had evaporated, and she rinsed with cold water out of habit rather than necessity. The bottle was returned to its rightful place and Hecate shut the cabinet door placidly, using her hands this time.

Julie was sitting up in bed when she re-entered the living room (the correct, duplicate bed, Hecate was reluctantly forced to note). Her trousers, bra, bag and cardigan were hanging loosely off the back of the armchair, but her shoes were paired neatly at the end of her bed and her hair was tied back into a smart plait. She sat in her t-shirt, staring absentmindedly out of the window, and appeared entirely unphased by Hecate’s reappearance. Hecate stiffened a little and undid her dressing gown, folding it over carefully and placing it on the vanity, before pulling back the covers and sliding into her own bed.

“Ready to go to sleep now, Miss Hubble?” she asked listlessly, hands deftly manipulating her hair into a loose braid.

“What?” replied Julie, distractedly. “Oh, yes, whenever you are,”

Hecate had half a mind to ask the elder Hubble what she was thinking, but instead she pursed her lips and turned her attention back to her braid. It only took a few seconds for her to finish and, when she did, she clapped loudly three times, plunging the room into darkness.

“Goodnight, Miss Hubble,” she said stiffly, shuffling under the covers.

“Goodnight, Miss Hardbroom.”

 

\---

Hecate woke up first. Years of meticulous routine and her own unwavering belief in the value of early mornings had long since hardened her circadian rhythm. She rolled over sluggishly, unfurling her arm in an attempt to grab the clock that sat on her bedside table. Her hand bounced off the mattress of Julie’s bed and Hecate’s eyes flew open in horror. She sat up abruptly, clutching the offending hand to her chest and staring at Julie fearfully. Julie merely sniffed and rolled over to face the opposite wall, burying her face into the pillow. Hecate let out a sigh and pushed the covers aside, slipping out of bed and standing upright. Light was already streaming through the window, filtering in between the trees outside and dappling the room with spots of bright white. She weaved her way across to the bedside table, taking care not to wake Julie, and peered down at the clock.

6:30am.

She sighed again and stole a glance at Julie. She was breathing heavily, mouth hanging open and hand covering half her face. Her plait had come loose during the night, and her golden curls were now strewn messily across the pillow behind her. Hecate pursed her lips and her brow furrowed with indecision. Once she was awake it would only take seconds for her to transfer Julie back home, and she didn’t start work until, when was it? Nine-thirty? Hecate tilted her head from side to side slightly, struggling to reach a conclusion. School breakfast was at eight, but that was still an hour and a half away. And Julie had had to trek all the way up the hill yesterday. And she would probably have to prepare for work the moment she got home. Eventually Hecate stopped shifting and straightened her back, smoothing out her pyjamas for no one in particular. If Julie didn’t wake up by seven thirty then she would intervene, but, until then, there was no harm in letting her sleep.

Hecate nodded to herself and meandered back to her own bed, reaching across and neatly tucking the duvet into place, propping the pillow up against the headboard and then running her palms across the duvet once more to flatten it. With a flick of her wrist the fire in the mantelpiece coughed back to life, warming the room almost instantaneously. She drifted into the bathroom, repeating her evening routine and wondering how Julie could’ve ever found the plumbing system complicated. A ladybird buzzed angrily against the window pane near the bathtub, smacking into it twice before giving in and sitting on the glass, cleaning his wings forlornly. Hecate gave him a small smile and waved her fingers, transferring him outside and sending him on his way.

She glided back into the bedroom and sat down heavily at the vanity, leaning back in the chair and watching herself in the mirror. She pursed her lips and untied her hair, tugging it free of the braid gently and running her finger through the initial tangles. It had taken her decades to grow, and at this point she almost kept it long out of spite, making up for the awful, awful bob she had been forced to wear when she started secondary school. Thank god Pippa had talked her out of that one, she thought, parting her hair loosely down the middle. She picked up her comb and began brushing through the section to her left, carefully working her way from the bottom to the top.

‘Magnificent’ was a new one though. Pippa had commented on its thickness before, but that had been years ago and by the time they… parted ways, Hecate’s hair had only fallen to her chest. She reached up and ran her fingers along her scalp, tugging at a particularly intrusive knot that had decided to form near the top of her head. True, she had always taken pride in her hair, but it was a private sort of pride. The kind that left her relieved after a long day, where she could curl up in her chair, book in hand, fire glowing, and let her hair tumble down her back. Even when the girls interrupted her at night she pinned it back slightly – otherwise she looked far too unintimidating.

She began to work on the other section, combing just enough to break free any knots while avoiding disrupting the curl pattern. It was sad really, she thought, her lips pulling back in disappointment, the students were probably the only ones who saw her with her hair down these days. And Ada, but they hadn’t had a quiet evening together in years, quite literally. She went out with the other teachers of course, including her friend of many decades, but despite her closeness with the other staff, when confronted with so many people Hecate found she could never quite… let her hair down.

She snorted slightly as she admired her own pun.

Behind her Julie grunted and rolled over, covering her face with the crook of her elbow. She inhaled sharply, then yawned loudly.

“What time is it?” she asked, clearly still half-asleep.

“The clock is right next you, Miss Hubble,” said Hecate in a steely tone, “Why don’t you check for yourself?”

In the mirror Hecate could see Julie wrinkle her nose and mimic her words, speaking under her breath in the high-pitched voice children used when mocking each other. She nevertheless rolled over and reached for the clock, pulling it towards herself, narrowly avoiding sending three candles toppling to the floor. Her eyes briefly flittered open and she groaned loudly before placing the clock back heavily. When she rolled over once more she was greeted with a face full of hair, and made yet another loud ‘ugh’ noise.

Hecate pursed her lips and stared at her in the reflection.

“Right,” said Julie eventually, side-eying Hecate warily, “I suppose I had better get dressed then.”

“That is a customary part of getting ready for the day.”

Julie rolled her eyes and glared at Hecate’s reflection. She gave her a smarmy smile, not yet awake enough to quip back, and sat up slowly, propping herself up on her palms. Hecate put her comb down and twisted to face Julie, looking at her expectantly.

“Not a morning person then, Miss Hubble?”

“Ha bloody ha,” drawled Julie sardonically. She pulled the covers back and swung her feet onto the floor, before shimmying down the thin break separating her and Hecate’s beds.

To Hecate’s relief the t-shirt hung low enough to provide Julie with some decency, and she turned back to the vanity nonplussed. However, as Julie bent down to pick up her clothes the t-shirt pulled upwards suggestively, and Hecate was reminded that glass did, in fact, cast a reflection. She made a strangled noise and stared into her lap, waiting for Julie’s underwear to fall back under the fabric of her top.

Julie didn’t even appear to notice, lazily heaping clothes over her arm and muttering under her breath. She turned slowly and began shuffling towards the bathroom, posture slumped and feet dragging along the ground. Hecate breathed out quietly.

“The spare toothbrush is still there,” she said, as acerbically as she could manage, “I’m sure you need help noticing these things in the morning.”

Julie sneered at her then disappeared into the bathroom, using the back of her foot to drag the door shut. She threw her things on the floor and ran the tap, filling the sink halfway before remembering she had nothing to hold her hair back. She sighed and began scooping water onto her face, too frustrated to worry about dampening her curls. It was utterly beyond her how anyone had the nerve to be not only chipper in the mornings (she’d had enough hassle with that from Mildred), but also a sarcastic little sod (which Mildred most definitely was not).

Eventually she gave up and stuck her face in the water, holding her hair with her hands. A moment later she drew her face back, blinking heavily, wiggling her jaw in a desperate attempt to wake herself up. Her face was sopping wet, but the tactic worked nonetheless, and Julie drained the sink with a bit more enthusiasm than she had filled it. She shook her head slightly, searching for a hand towel and finding none. Eventually she gave up and wiped her face with a piece of toilet paper, throwing it derisively into the lavatory of death. She reached for the toothbrush, scrubbing at her teeth with plain water. It was better than nothing and, much like her self-induced scuba session, genuinely did help to improve her mood.

By the time she flounced back into the bedroom she was fully dressed and as jovial as ever. Hecate was still at her vanity, long hair tapering down her back, but she had evidently found time to change, and now sat demurely in a long black pencil skirt and blouse. She was thumbing through the pages of a book and did not look up when Julie minced into the room.

“Bathroom’s free,” said Julie brightly, plonking herself down in the armchair, noting how much bigger the room seemed with the absence of a second bed.

“Mhm?” replied Hecate, putting the book down on top of her dressing gown.

“Bathroom’s free,” repeated Julie, as cheerfully as the first time.

“My,” drawled Hecate, “You do seem awfully agreeable Miss Hubble, especially given your earlier performance. What on earth happened in there?”

Julie smiled at her sarcastically but made no reply.

Realising she’d receiving no retort, Hecate pursed her lips and rolled her shoulders, sitting up a little straighter. She opened one of the drawers on the vanity unity and pulled out a small wooden box, decorated with white stones and sealed with a padlock. She flicked her wrist and the padlock fell, the box springing open. Hecate placed it against the mirror and carefully pulled out a thin tube of eyeliner. She unscrewed the cap and leant in close to the mirror, almost bringing it against her face when Julie interrupted.

“Oh, Miss Hardbroom!”

“What?” demanded Hecate wearily, dropping her hand and twisting in her seat, fully preparing to conduct a lesson on toilet plumbing.

“Would you like me to move the bedside table back?”

Hecate blinked.

“Oh,” she replied, shoulders sagging slightly. “Yes, thank you.”

“No problem!”

Hecate turned back to her make-up, painting a thin black line on each eyelid, watching in the reflection as Julie hauled the bedside table back to its rightful place. She screwed the cap on the eyeliner and reached for her mascara, again leaning in close to the mirror, almost squinting as she applied it. To her surprise, Julie did not flop back down in the armchair, but picked up her bag and hovered by the window, looking out at the trees blissfully. Hecate pulled away from the mirror and stared at her.

“What _are_ you doing?” she sniffed, putting the lid back on her mascara.

“It’s beautiful here,” hummed Julie, wistfully.

Hecate swallowed and placed the mascara back in the box - it wasn’t something she’d ever really thought about. She stood up slowly, footfalls soft as she walked over to the window. She stopped just beside Julie and peered through the glass suspiciously. Sunlight flittered across the trees, sending cascades of rusty autumnal hues tumbling to the ground below. Small bugs hurried past, their trajectory illuminated in the early morning glow. Every so often a leaf would flutter down from one of the trees above, gliding leisurely past the window and settling calmly on the grass. Behind them the fire crackled gently.

“Yes,” replied Hecate quietly, “I suppose it is rather.”

There was a small pause, and Julie turned to face her. Hecate took a small step back, caught off guard by the sudden closeness.

“Miss Hardbroom?” asked Julie softly.

“Yes?”

“Can you send me home now?”

Hecate’s eyebrows dropped sadly, but she nodded nonetheless.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” Julie continued, looking at her in earnest. Hecate gave another small nod and her lips curled into a doleful smile. “Keep an eye on Millie for me, won’t you?”

“Oh,” replied Hecate, tone rich with relief and smiling, quite genuinely, at the familiar topic. “ _That_ I can assure you of.”

Hecate stood back, properly this time, and raised her hands in preparation.

“Until next time, Miss Hardbroom,” said Julie, giving her a mock salute.

“Goodbye, Miss Hubble.”

There was a faint glimmer and Julie disappeared, leaving Hecate alone once more. She sighed heavily, staring at the empty spot in front of her. Her gaze fell upon the window, and she wandered towards it slowly. A robin hopped merrily between the branches just outside, singing brightly, oblivious to the witch standing not three feet away.

How had she never realised how beautiful it was before?


	2. Chapter 2

“Hecate, do you have a moment?”

Hecate almost dropped her ladle. She whirled round and glared at the headmistress.

“I thought we agreed you would knock.”

Ada smiled apologetically and tapped on the back of the classroom door. Hecate narrowed her eyes but said nothing. She turned back to her cauldron, wiping the ladle clean and setting it neatly alongside the small collection of ingredients. The fire underneath was snuffed out with a dismissive flick of the wrist, and the liquid inside stopped bubbling quite so violently.

“What are you making?”

“Invisibility potion,” sniffed Hecate.

“Seems a little beneath you, don’t you think?”

“A firm grasp of the basics is essential to the success of any witch,” said Hecate, matter-of-factly.

“Ah, so you weren’t practicing for your second-year class then.”

Hecate pursed her lips and changed the subject.

“What’s happened?” she asked, “Let me guess - first word M, second word H?”

“Not exactly,” replied Ada slowly, stepping forward and handing Hecate an open envelope. “First word J, second word H.”

Hecate looked at her curiously. She took the envelope and gently tugged free the letter inside. The words were written in a neat hand, round and detached in a decidedly non-magical way. The contents spread across two pages and Hecate had to read the whole thing twice before fully digesting its contents. She looked up at Ada in disbelief.

“She wants to come here tonight,” said Ada coolly.

“And you agreed!?”

“Hecate, these are very serious allegations.”

The potion’s mistress staggered limply to one of the desks and sat down heavily. Ada diligently shuffled along behind her.

“But this isn’t-” Hecate held the letter weakly in her lap and stared up at her friend. “You can’t believe this. You know I would never…”

“I know you would never intentionally,” said Ada slowly. Hecate didn’t look at her as she handed the letter back. “But you haven’t been the kindest to that girl.”

“Oh, forgive me, am I supposed to frolic about the classroom singing nursery rhymes and handing out little gold stars?” She sat up a little straighter, visibly shuddering at the concept. “I am… Firm but fair. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“And nobody’s saying there is,” began Ada soothingly.

“Well evidently someone is! Of course, it would be Julie Hubble and her insipid frivolity. Just because she’s versed in the Witches Code suddenly she thinks she’s fit to tell me how to teach. Non-witches will never understand, you know, they just think-”

“ _That_ ,” interrupted Ada forcefully, “Is exactly the kind of attitude that lends this letter credibility.”

Hecate’s mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’. She stared into space for a while, before slumping over and looking forlornly at the floor.

“You will be in my office at 7pm this evening, is that understood?”

Hecate nodded without looking up.

“And you better have a good explanation, because we have had enough trouble this year with bullying.”

\---

“Tea, Miss Hubble?”

Julie shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. She felt she was about to be interrogated. It flashed before her eyes, the perfect good-cop bad-cop routine, played out between headteacher and deputy.

“No, thank you.”

She leant back in the chair and sat as upright as she could.

“Miss Hardbroom?”

They glanced over and looked up at Hecate, who stood next to Ada’s chair like the world’s skinniest bodyguard.

“No thank you, headmistress.”

Ada sighed and put the teapot down - she never knew truly understood the phrase between a rock and a hard place until today. She cleared her throat, and threw out her opening gambit.

“I was very troubled by the contents of your letter, Miss Hubble, very troubled indeed. These are very serious allegations you’ve made, and I thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

Hecate’s eyes widened and she glanced down at Ada nervously. Julie caught the look and smiled slightly.

“I will admit,” replied Julie primly, “When Mildred informed me of Miss Hardbroom’s actions last year I was concerned, but the most recent development in her reign of terror is really too much. As I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“Yes. I was hoping Miss Hardbroom could elaborate on that.”

Ada took a sip of tea and looked up at Hecate expectedly. Julie Hubble raised an eyebrow.

“I-” sputtered Hecate, “What I mean is-“

“Yes?” asked Julie sardonically.

“What I mean,” continued Hecate, composing herself, “Is that Mildred no longer has any excuse for her behaviour. Coming from a non-witch family her apparent incompet-”

Ada clicked her tongue.

“Difficulties,” adjusted Hecate, “Were understandable, but as a true witch she has a responsibility to herself and those around her. And that includes taking magic seriously. I strongly refute the contents of your letter and I do not allow either favouritism or bullying to take place in my classroom. I am aware that many consider me ‘old fashioned’ in my approach, but if you care to look at the standardised exam boards you will find that potions is not only one of the school’s consistently strong subjects but equally one of the most frequently chosen optional modules.”

She somehow stood up even straighter, and raised her chin triumphantly.

“Oh, really?” replied Julie quick as a whip, “And I suppose your treatment of Ethel Hallow is entirely devoid of favouritism.”

Ada slurped her tea loudly.

“She’s- That’s- That’s totally different. The poor child’s mother won’t even talk to her! She needs-”

“And what about before Halloween, hmm? I seem to remember that you’ve had it out for Millie from the beginning.”

“I- That was- She crash landed into the academy! Literally!”

“Oh, and it’s her fault she didn’t know how to fly a broom?”

“It is her fault she decided to consider her education a jolly cavort from the start. We are not dealing with needlework here Miss Hubble, magic is more than-”

Ada cleared her throat. Julie and Hecate exchanged one final glare of indignation before rounding on the headmistress simultaneously. Ada finished her drink slowly, basking in the authority that was so often overlooked. She put the cup back in her saucer and leant back in her chair, folding her fingers together and resting them against her stomach.

 “Your goodwill towards Ethel has not gone unnoticed,” she said evenly, looking at neither Hecate nor Julie.

“Headmistress you can’t expect me to believe that-”

“Clearly she can,” retorted Julie.

“Listen,” snapped Hecate, hunching over and pointing at Julie menacingly “Just because _you_ appear unable to comprehend the danger your daughter was in last month does not mean-“

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you mean the daughter that _saved your life_!?”

“And do you think any of this would have happened if Mildred Hubble had not been allowed to-“

“Hecate?”

“ _What!?_ ”

“Enough.”

Julie crossed her arms and legs and leant back into the chair triumphantly; Hecate stared at Ada with eyes like saucers. She opened her mouth to speak, but after a few false starts resigned herself to scowling.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Miss Hubble,” said Ada smoothly, “Clearly it is a sensitive matter, and I can assure it will be dealt with.”

“I would like to request a follow-up, if I may,” continued Julie, without asking a question. “Before the winter holidays.”

“Certainly. I will send across a written report concerning Miss Hardbroom’s actions – Parents’ Evening is only in a few weeks, and I assure you the matter will be settled by then. And, of course, should Mildred demonstrate she is struggling under undue stress, I actively encourage you to report any further troubling behaviour.”

“Thank you,” said Julie shortly. “Miss Hardbroom, I look forward to seeing you on Parents’ Evening.”

Hecate sniffed.

“Likewise, Miss Hubble.”

Ada clicked her fingers and Julie vanished. Hecate rounded on the headmistress, who was ‘hmm’-ing thoughtfully.

“Ada, you can’t honestly believe-”

“She’s right Hecate,” stated Ada plainly, turning in her chair to look up at her deputy. “You have been a crucial member of staff for many years and your results speak for themselves, but I cannot ignore repeat acts of blatant antagonism. I mean for goodness’ sake; just because the girl comes from a witching family does not mean she is required to know everything about being a witch. And we’ve been in enough hot water as it is. I do _not_ want another intervention, thank you very much.”

“Ada, I-”

“No, Hecate. This is not excusable. And now that I think of it, perhaps your favouritism has had a role to play in this ongoing nonsense between Mildred and Ethel. Nonsense that I have tried to the best of my abilities to quell.”

Hecate’s eyebrows twisted in worry and she uncrossed her arms. Her face was flushed bright red, but at this point Ada couldn’t tell if it was from anger or shame.

“Why do you do it?” she continued in exasperation. “We all know you care about the child, what are you afraid of? That people will think you’re going soft?”

She waited for a reply, and when none came, she twisted back to her paperwork.

“It’s a waste really. Mildred’s one of the most inventive and insightful students we’ve ever had, and I just know you and Miss Hubble would get on very well if you didn’t insist on maintaining this ridiculous act. I’m almost proud of her for reporting you.”

Silence filled the room, interrupted only by a rustling of paper and the scrawling of Ada’s quill.

“May I go?” asked Hecate, very very quietly.

Ada sighed and turned back to face her.

“I’m sorry Hecate, I know it feels like I’m picking on you but this… This has been going on for years, in some form or another.”

Hecate nodded slightly.

“Parents’ Evening is in two weeks, clean up your act by then. I don’t…” she swallowed, and looked away. “Please don’t force my hand in this.”

\---

“And how’s class been, love?”

Mildred was hoping on one foot impatiently, and in the lag between the mirrors all Julie saw was the faint outline of her daughter bouncing about the screen.

“Fine,” said Mildred quickly.

“Even potions?”

“Yeah! Miss Hardbroom’s stopped being so…” Mildred stopped bouncing and squinted up into one corner as she thought. “She’s not less mean, because that’s just who she is, but… She’s less mean to me. Which is weird really because in every other sense she’s just as mean as normal – she transferred right behind me and Ethel on the stairs today, it was really scary. But… You know.” She looked back at Julie and resumed her impatient hopping, as if that were enough to answer the question.

“So, she’s not… Being as difficult as after Halloween?” asked Julie, speculatively.

 Mildred shook her head.

“But she was happy _on_ Halloween, remember?”

“Millie, that doesn’t-“

“ _And_ she said she was grateful I saved the school.”

“But in class,” attempted Julie once more, “Is she-“

“She’s fine, Mum! It’s fine. Can I go?”

“Wait,” continued the elder Hubble, brain suddenly catching up with her ears, “Why were you talking to Ethel?”

Mildred shrugged.

“She wanted to say something rude but Miss Hardbroom stopped her. She even got detention. Can I go now?”

“And where are you off to in such a hurry?” continued Julie jokingly, finally satisfied with her daughter’s answer.

“Enid’s found a way to turn my cat black! Well, she thinks she has. But it has to be done before midnight otherwise that messes up the potion, and lights out is at ten.”

“Millie, you’ve got hours until then!”

“Well maybe it takes that long, I don’t know! Can I go?”

Julie smiled and sighed at the same time.

“There’s nothing wrong with Tabby you know.”

“I know! I just… Everyone else has a black cat.”

Julie thought about dissuading her, but then she remembered what it was like having only a mum in a school where nearly everyone had a mum _and_ a dad.

“Go on then,” she said, smiling with mock defeat, “But don’t go getting in any trouble.”

“I won’t,” said Mildred brightly, grinning broadly as she flounced away from the mirror. The connection vanished and Julie sighed at her own reflection. It had been a week since her meeting with Miss Hardbroom, and although she had promised to herself that she wouldn’t harass Mildred about it, she couldn’t wait until Parent’s Evening. Miss Cackle was allegedly sending a letter tomorrow, but God knows if it would arrive in time. 

She meandered around the kitchen slowly, opening and closing various cupboards until deciding all she had the energy for was a cup of tea. She filled the kettle and set it to boil, staring absentmindedly out the balcony door. It wasn’t that she disliked Miss Hardbroom per se. She just disliked, no, _detested_ , her behaviour. It would be wrong to say she didn’t respect her; she respected the woman more than almost any other teacher in that school, and having spoken to her peers there appeared to be no end to the Miss Hardbroom’s list of accomplishments, both as an educator and a witch in her own right.

The kettle pinged and Julie filled her cup. She opened the balcony window and walked outside. Cool air hit her face and blew her hair back melodramatically. She took a sip of her drink, cupping it in both hands.

But it had been a risk to send Millie to Cackle’s from the beginning. All she wanted was the best life for her daughter – to give her opportunities she’d never had, to let her explore and play and learn more than she’d been able. It was all her mother had wanted for her too. But between the bullies (both staff and pupils), the apparent constant danger, and the thinly veiled sense of isolation, she was beginning to wonder if it was all worth it. Millie’s friends had almost died for Christ’s sake. And she knew Millie needed to apply herself more, she really did. _And_ that she needed to take this more seriously. But was yelling at her and talking down to her and making her feel awful really the way to go about things? Was it really necessary for Miss Hardbroom to bludgeon her with a torrent of abuse every time she stepped in the classroom? Evidently Miss Cackle didn’t think so, but that didn’t leave Julie particularly relieved. Miss Hardbroom was a dab hand at her work; her methods were more set in stone than a seam of marble.

The wind picked up again, less crisp and more bitterly cold. Julie pulled the drink to her chest and turned to go inside.

But then Miss Hardbroom had, despite her best efforts, been nearly courteous to Julie when she’d slept over. It had almost been fun. She slid the balcony door shut and ‘hmm’-ed, flopping down on the sofa. Julie could handle herself, she knew she could. She’d survived enough trials and tribulations, both professional and personal, to know that ‘HB’ would never intimidate her. But she was loathed if she was going to allow a tight-lipped traditionalist to ruin her daughter’s education. She may have trusted Miss Hardbroom with her life, but she most certainly did not trust her with anything else.

\---

“Right. I think that is more than enough nonsense for today, thank you very much.”

The class shuffled nervously. Mildred wasn’t entirely sure what she was referring to. So far, they’d managed the entire lesson with only one broken beaker (which wasn’t her fault) and a very minor case of being-on-fire (which Miss Hardbroom was able to fix in 0.2 seconds). And there was still fifteen minutes left before class ended.

“You have five minutes to tidy your desks. I expect the cauldrons to be as clean as when you arrived.”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom.”

There was a manic scuffle as everyone attempted to tidy away at once, running back and forth to the ingredients’ cabinet while desperately trying to avoid treading on the various familiars that were skittering along the floor.

“What’s going on?” hissed Maud, as she bumped into Mildred on a return run to her desk.

“I don’t know,” whispered Mildred, “Has she ever done this before?”

Maud shook her head vigorously.

“Today, girls,” droned Hecate from the front of the class. Mildred and Maud glanced at each other before hurrying away.

Eventually the room settled. Everyone stood in pairs behind their desks, some clutching impatient cats, others rocking back and forth nervously. Hecate smiled thinly.

“You are all dismissed for an early lunch. Except for you, Mildred Hubble. I have something to discuss with you.”

 “Good luck,” whispered Enid, as she wafted past Mildred.

“But, I haven’t even done anything…”

“Good luck Mils,” said Maud, marching past her from the back row.

“But…I don’t… I haven’t _done_ anything.”

They flooded out in seconds, desperate to either eat or escape Miss Hardbroom. Mildred was left hovering behind her desk, looking at anything but at her teacher.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake Mildred, don’t look so scared. You’re not in trouble.”

“I’m… Not?”

“No,” replied Hecate, sitting down at the desk in front of the room. “You’re not.”

She flicked her wrist and the seat behind Mildred whooshed its way around her, stopping in front of Miss Hardbroom’s table. It reminded Mildred of those crime films her Mum watched, where the police and the suspect had to sit opposite each other.

“Please, sit.”

Mildred walked warily towards the front of the classroom.

“Any day now,” said Hecate sarcastically, before changing her tone and attempting to make light of the situation, “I don’t bite.”

Mildred made a vague attempt to laugh, and then perched on the seat opposite her teacher. She felt like a baby bird in front of a falcon. Hecate took a deep breath in then breathed out steadily, puffing out her cheeks.

“Miss Hardbroom, are you nervous?”

“Ah, my, Mildred you are… As perceptive as ever, I see.”

“Am I getting thrown out?”

“What?” Hecate stared at her, frowning slightly. “Is… Is that what you think this is about?”

Mildred shrugged. She saw Miss Hardbroom sag slightly in her seat, then close her eyes for a moment. “This…” Hecate opened her eyes and shook her head, “You are not being expelled.”

“Oh,” said Mildred, sighing with relief, “Good.” She frowned. “Then what _is_ it about?”

“I… I was told, recently, that I am too harsh on you,” began Hecate slowly, tucking her chin back and averting her eyes. “I… Wanted your opinion.”

“ _You_ want _my_ opinion!?”

“Yes, well,” replied Hecate drolly, “Don’t get used to it.”

Mildred shuffled in her seat and pursed her lips in thought.

“And I won’t be in trouble, no matter what I say?”

“That…” Hecate pulled a face, already neck-deep in regret. “I suppose so,” she said slowly. “But that is not an excuse for rudeness.”

“No, of course not, Miss Hardbroom!”

 “Good,” sniffed Hecate, “Then we understand each other. Well, go on. The floor, as they say, is yours.”

There was a pause.

“I think it’s unfair when you jump out and scare us,” said Mildred, with the usual tact of a thirteen-year-old. “It’s like you’re there, listening to us all the time… Are you?”

Miss Hardbroom stiffened.

“That… Is a professional secret.”

Mildred sighed and swung her legs. She held onto the edge of her dress, fumbling nervously with the fabric.

“What else?” asked Hecate, as gently as she could.

“I hate it when you shout at us.”

“I do not shout!” shouted Miss Hardbroom.

“Well,” Mildred replied quietly, looking at her feet, “That’s what it feels like.”

The teacher slumped in her seat again, turning her hands in her lap.

“And I think it’s unfair when you pick on me,” continued Mildred, “I don’t know if you do it on purpose,” she added, “But… You don’t talk to anyone else like that. Especially not Ethel.”

Miss Hardbroom shut her eyes and clenched her hands together. Mildred thought she might be praying.

“Yes,” she began, opening her eyes. “Well that’s…” She sighed and unclasped her hands. “Thank you, Mildred for your… Honesty.”

“You’ve been nicer at the moment though!” added Mildred hastily, realising that may not have been the best note to end on.

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t… Erm… The last few lessons. You’ve… Well, I don’t _exactly_ what you did differently, but I know I enjoyed class a lot more.”

She smiled at Miss Hardbroom manically, in a very opaque attempt to rescue herself. Hecate shook her head.

“Thank you, Mildred.” She stood up and motioned towards the door. “You are free to join your friends.”

Mildred ran out of the door as fast as her boots could carry her.

Hecate watched her leave, only to flick her wrist and slam the door shut the moment Mildred was in the corridor. She sat down heavily and leant over the table, burying her face in her palms. Ada had been right; worse still, Julie Hubble had been right. She thought back to her time at the College, all those days run ragged trying to keep up with Mistress Broomhead. God, she should have known better. If anyone was acutely aware of the negative impact a teacher could have it was her. She rested her arms on the table and pushed her forehead uncomfortably against the back of her hands. If she sighed any more, she wouldn’t have air left to breathe with.

\---

Julie Hubble stared at Miss Hardbroom levelly; Miss Hardbroom returned the sentiment.

“Her ability to concentrate is still… Lacking,” she said tightly, “And she is still _exceedingly undisciplined._ ”

Mildred looked into her lap and swung her legs absentmindedly. Sure, she was a little embarrassed, but this was nothing new. And after last Parents’ Evening she was sure her Mum could handle it. She glanced up, and saw Julie sitting upright, arms folded and lips taut. She ran one hand through her hair, tousling it in a familiar fashion. It was the same way she always fiddled with her hair when she was talking to the parents in the playground. The patented Julie Hubble ‘I’m pretending not to care but I care very deeply’ gesture. It was right up there along with the ‘I was right’ triumphant pose and the ‘Alright, Miss Bossy’ voice.

“However,” Miss Hardbroom continued smoothly, picking up her papers and rustling them loudly, “When left to her own devices she has shown…” She cleared her throat and attempted to get her face under control. “Notable ingenuity and determination.”

Mildred whipped her neck upwards and stared at Miss Hardbroom, mouth open in the biggest grin the potion’s teacher had ever seen. She turned to Julie and raised her eyebrows, stopping just short of giving her a ‘get a load of this’ thumb point. Julie smiled softly at her daughter, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Hecate’s mouth twitch, ever so slightly.

“See Mum,” said Mildred gleefully, “I told you potions was fine!”

“Thank you, Miss Hardbroom,” said Julie primly. “And how are her grades?”

Miss Hardbroom’s face hardened again and she resumed her sheet-rustling.

“As abysmal as ever,” she said flatly. “If only Mildred applied herself more, cultivated just an ounce of self-discipline, I’m sure she would fare…” She paused and glared at Mildred dramatically. “Less terribly.”

Mildred stared into her lap again, legs somehow swinging even higher than before. She did not stop smiling.

“Ah, well,” said Julie brightly, “You can’t have everything.”

“No,” replied Miss Hardbroom, as steely as she could manage, “Apparently not.”

Mildred looked between her teacher and her mother. She stopped smiling. They were staring at each other intently, sizing each other up like rival politicians. Her Mum was tight-lipped and breathing very slowly; Miss Hardbroom was breathing out her nostrils like a bull threatening to charge. She contemplated backing away. But eventually Miss Hardbroom clicked her tongue dismissively, apparently deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. Julie’s posture relaxed a little and Mildred sighed with relief.

“Do you have anything else you’d like to talk about, Miss Hubble?”

“Yes, actually.”

Miss Hardbroom breathed in so hard Mildred thought she was going to inhale the reports.

“Could you give us a second please Millie?”

“No problem Mum!” chirped Mildred enthusiastically, diving headlong for the exit. The door slammed shut and Hecate lost whatever faint façade of composure she had been clinging on to. She glared at Julie with the force of a thousand suns.

“What is the meaning of this, Miss Hubble!?”

“Keep your socks on, I’m not here to argue.”

“What have my _socks_ got to do with _anything_?”

“It’s… It’s an expression.”

Hecate snorted, then drew her lips in embarrassment when she noticed Julie’s sly smile.

“Well, it is a ridiculous one.”

“Look,” replied Julie, mid-sigh, “I’m not here to fight.”

“Oh? Because that’s not the impression I’m getting.”

“Will you just _listen_ , for just _one_ second?”

Hecate titled her head and did the sweetest fake smile she could; Julie exhaled in exasperation.

“I wanted to _thank_ you,” she said slowly.

“I beg your pardon?” snapped Hecate, as if someone had just sworn at her grandmother.

“I know you’re used to magical parents,” replied Julie slowly, “And magical teaching, and… Magical life. I appreciate the change you have made in your behaviour. And I know Millie does too.”

“Yes, well…” Hecate began, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. “I clearly underestimated the impact I was having. And, despite what you may think, I really do have the best interests of my students at heart.”

“Which is more than I can say for the teachers in Mildred’s primary school.”

“Hm.”

Julie smiled, ever so slightly.

“Anything _else_ you wish to say, Miss Hubble?”

“No,” said Julie innocently, “I think that’s all.”

Hecate exhaled and then, remembering Ada’s enthusiastic nonsense about fostering good teacher-parent relations, called after Julie as she stood up to leave.

“Just, one word of warning, Miss Hubble.”

Julie rolled her eyes as she pirouetted on the spot, turning to face the teacher with her arms folded, weight resting on one foot.

“What?” she said flatly.

“I felt I should uh-“ Hecate cleared her throat slightly, and tried to will away the rouge from her cheeks. “I felt I should inform you of the Spelling Bee this year. It takes place next week.”

“The what?”

“Ah, so Mildred didn’t tell you about that little adventure. I can only wonder why not _, hmm, Mildred.”_

There was a scuffling noise outside the door and a patter of heavy footsteps as Mildred hurried noisily down the corridor. Julie stared at Hecate in disbelief, and then looked back at the door.

“How did you- Oh, never mind.” She waved her hand dismissively and turned her gaze to Hecate once more. “So, the Spelling Bee?”

“Yes, it’s a… How should I describe it? A competition, of sorts. Between schools.”

“I see,” said Julie, nodding slightly.

“The reason I’m telling you, Miss Hubble, is because this year the organisers wish to open the competition to parents. That is, parents are invited to watch.”

“Right… And is there a reason this won’t be sent out on Friday’s newspaper?”

Hecate rolled her eyes.

“It is on a Wednesday night, Miss Hubble. I felt you may appreciate some prior warning, especially as it is… Rather more difficult for you to get here than the average parent. Besides, you have no doubt heard of the abysmal situation in the HR department.”

Julie opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

“Cackles’ has an HR department?”

“Everywhere has an HR department,” said Hecate darkly.

Julie snorted despite herself and erupted into a fit breathy giggles.

“Is something amusing, Miss Hubble?”

“No,” sniffed Julie, “No, I just… Anyway. Will Millie be competing this year?”

“Unfortunately not,” said Hecate stiffly, “Competitors are chosen alphabetically. Although, as I’m sure she will be delighted to tell you, she competed… Quite successfully, last year.”

She swallowed the penultimate words, as if saying them too loud might curse someone.

“Well,” said Julie warmly, “I appreciate the warning, Miss Hardbroom.”

Hecate smiled a politely as she could manage.

“You shall see me there,” continued Julie, as she moved towards to door. “Have a pleasant evening!”

Hecate nodded woodenly as she left the room, before breathing out heavily and slouching back in her chair. Perhaps being nice would get easier with practice.

“That was awful kind of you, Hecate.”

Hecate yelped and twisted in her seat, just in time to see Miss Cackle whoosh into existence behind her. She glared so hard Ada thought her eyes were about to fall out.

“ _Would it kill you to knock?!”_

The headmistress shrugged. Hecate could’ve strangled her. Instead, she sat up straight again and kicked her heels against the floor like an impetuous child.

“You said I needed to make more of an effort, and so-“ she gestured with her hands “- I made more of an effort.”

“And I appreciate it.”

There was a pause.

“Now, with the utmost respect, I have more students to see, so if you could-“

“Did you mean what you said about HR?”


	3. Chapter 3

Hecate took a deep breath in and exhaled heavily. What sick joke was the universe playing on her? Who, or what, had engineered this abysmal set-up? It was like the whole world was out to make fun at her expense. And to think she’d have to try and explain it all to Mildred’s _mother._

“Hecate!” exclaimed Pippa, rushing up and giving her a bear hug, “It’s so good to see you again!”

“Like… wise,” choked Hecate, patting her awkwardly on the back.

“Isn’t it incredible?” continued Pippa, releasing Hecate and stepping back. “Imagine being picked to compete two years in a row?”

“Yes,” said Hecate weakly. “Imagine.”

“Miss Pentangle!”

“Miss Cackle!”

They shook hands like a pair of over-friendly businessmen and began chatting away so quickly Hecate barely had time to register what they were saying. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of pink cardigans.

“And who will be competing this year?”

“Ah, we have some very promising first-years. Lucinda Inkwell and Andrea Johnson, I believe?”

“Hmm?”

Hecate blinked back to reality.

“Lucinda and Andrea. For the Spelling Bee?”

“Oh, yes.”

“No more Hubbles?” chimed Pippa. “Oh, that’s shame. Still, I’m sure I’ll see Mildred around.”

“Causing trouble, no doubt.”

“And you’re still as _you_ as ever.”

“Don’t mind Miss Hardbroom,” said Ada, waltzing into the conversation before Hecate could reply, “She’s just a little nervous about the audience this year.”

“Oh, yes, the parents! I’m quite excited to tell the truth. Oh gosh, does that mean Mildred’s parents are coming? They’re not magical, are they?”

“Her mother will be in the audience,” said Hecate flatly.

“And the father?”

“I’m not sure that’s any of our business.”

“Oh, there’s no father? That’s such a shame! Her _poor_ mum.”

“Miss Hubble is an exceedingly capable woman Pippa, I assure you, she does not need your pity.”

“I wasn’t-“

“Don’t be mean, Hecate,” intervened Ada. She looped her arm through Pippa’s as if they were a pair of old women. “She’s agreed to chaperone Miss Hubble you see, explain the rules to her, that sort of thing. It was exceedingly generous of her.”

“Thankfully I was spared the burden of choice.”

Pippa immediately wriggled free of Miss Cackle and placed a hand on Hecate’s shoulder.

“You know, that’s still kind of you Hecate. It can be tough being the odd one out. I’m sure she’ll appreciate having a friend.”

Hecate’s necked retracted until she looked like a squashed tomato.

“I- Uh… Thank you.”

“But does this mean you’re not adjudicating this year?” Pippa continued, taking her hand off Hecate’s shoulder and turning to look at Ada. Hecate sagged with relief, before frowning and staring at Ada too.

“I don’t know, am I?”

“Ah, yes. Sorry, I should have explained. I’ve asked Algernon to adjudicate instead, seeing as you spent so much time prepping the girls. Miss Bat’s offered to keep score as well as hold announcements, so it’s all balanced out.”

“Are you sure that’s entirely wise?” asked Hecate, still frowning. “Gwen is, after all, a musician. They’re not known for their, uh… Numerical capabilities.”

“Try chanting in 5/4,” sniffed Pippa, “That’ll show you how to count.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” said Ada, interrupting before they boiled over. “Hecate, you better go pick Miss Hubble up, as we arranged. Shall we get on with the preparations, Pippa?”

“Yes! Yes, of course. See you around, Hecate!”

They watched as Hecate tried to smile, before flicking her wrist and evaporating. Pippa turned back to Ada; her pleasant expression did not mask her nosiness.

“Did you actually ask her to chaperon Mildred’s mother? And to pick her up?”

Ada nodded plaintively, turning to walk down the corridor. Pippa skipped to catch up with her, heels clacking on the stone floor.

“What are you playing at? I mean, I respect her deeply, but we both know Hecate is not exactly a people person.”

“Nothing,” said Ada disinterestedly. “I just thought it would be nice if Miss Hubble didn’t have to walk for once. Now, I really think we should-“

“Ada,” said Pippa stopping in the middle of the corridor, “I’m serious. Hecate is my friend. I want to know if there’s been any… Goings on.”

Ada sighed and turned around, folding her arms. She glanced around the corridor, before twisting her hand and transferring herself and Pippa into the headmistress’ office. Pippa didn’t even blink.

“She’s my friend too,” said Ada quietly. She uncrossed her arms and flicked her wrist reflexively, bringing the kettle on her desk to boil. “And if you must know, Miss Hubble filed a very serious complaint against her a last month. Forgive me if I want to patch things up.”

“A complaint? Oh, bats, I could see this coming. What was it for?”

“Bullying,” said Ada flatly. Pippa sighed and crossed her arms.

“And you’re sure having her chaperon Hubble Senior is a good idea?”

“To my understanding they’ve reached a truce,” replied Ada, pouring herself a cup. “I intend to reinforce that truce however I can. Tea?”

“You can’t make people like each other, Ada, that’s not how life works. No, thank you.”

“I am aware of that unfortunate fact,” said Ada slowly, pausing to take a sip. “However, I also know that last half-term avoiding parental concerns almost got me fired. So you can understand why I am keen to have my staff become more involved.”

“Is it really so wrong if they’re only ever going to tolerate each other?”

“Of course not. If you must know, after this evening, I have every intention of letting very much alone.”

“And what if this evening doesn’t go smoothly?”

“Let’s not worry ourselves with that.”

Pippa frowned. Ada, with her characteristic selectiveness, chose to ignore the sentiment.

“Shall we get going?” she asked, jovially.

“What about your tea?”

“I’ll bring it with me.”

\---

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Have you got any other suggestions?”

“Leave them alone?” offered Maud timidly.

“But what if there’s something going on? I can tell something’s not right, I just know it.”

Maud looked nervously at Enid; Enid shrugged. Mildred leant over the cauldron, dropping in a small green leaf, before running back to the other side of her bedroom and rummaging about in her backpack.

“She’s your mum, and if you think something’s going on, we’re here to help you. Right, Maud?”

“Yeah…” said Maud unenthusiastically. Mildred ran back to the cauldron and unscrewed a jar of black powder, dumping it unceremoniously into the pot.

“So, what do you have in mind Mils?” asked Enid, sitting on Mildred’s bed and swinging her legs.

“Invisibility spell.”

“But we tried that before, remember?” exclaimed Maud, as Mildred lobbed the jar onto her pillow and ran back to her bag. “It didn’t go very well…”

“Yes, but now we know how to do it properly,” replied Mildred without looking up. “We’ll make the potion, and I’ll go undercover during the Spelling Bee. I’ll send reports to you during the show, and then, when the potion’s worn off, we can discuss what I found. It’s perfect. Ah!” she pulled a small metal pot out of her backpack. “There you are.”

“Won’t they notice you’re missing?” said Enid, watching Mildred skip across the room and unscrew the pot.

“Oh please, they didn’t know where _you_ were during the last Spelling Bee, why should it make any different where I am?”

“Because our parents are going to be there?” offered Maud, as if she were talking to a toddler.

“Hmm… Maybe,” replied Mildred, scooping out the green gel with her hands and shaking her wrist until it slid into the cauldron. “But I think everyone’ll be too preoccupied with each other to notice. And Mum said HB is meant to be _chaperoning_ her. Don’t you think that’s at least a little weird?”

“Maybe she just wants to help your Mum understand witch stuff,” said Enid, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, I know,” replied Mildred, wiping her hand on her pinafore. “But remember, Miss Hardbroom wanted my _opinion_ the other day. And she’s being weirdly not-scary. And Mum keeps asking questions about my potion lessons. And now they’re hanging out. Don’t you think that’s all a little strange?”

“A little,” attempted Maud, “But those things don’t seem _terribly_ related…”

“Perhaps,” said Mildred, screwing the top on the pot and putting it on the floor. “But I’m still not sure. That’s why I need to see them this evening. When they’re both together and I can see what they’re like, _in the wild._ It’ll be like one of those David Attenborough shows. It’ll be fun.”

“David Attenwhat?” said Enid, staring at her unamused.

“Do witches not have David Attenborough?” replied Mildred, mouth hanging open. Enid and Maud exchanged a glance and then shook their heads, frowning. “He’s great! If this place ever gets wifi I’ll show you.”

“What’s a wifi?” asked Maud.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Mildred suddenly, shaking her head. “The potion’s ready.”

Enid hopped off the bed and Maud took a step back.

“Okay,” said Mildred, stirring the wooden ladle conscientiously, “If I drink some now, it should only last for two hours. If you see me before then, make sure you let me know.”

“Of course,” said Enid firmly. Maud nodded. Mildred brought the spoon to her lips and slurped loudly, before reaching back into the pot and taking another sip from the ladle. Maud and Enid watched with trepidation as she vanished before their eyes.

“Right,” said Mildred after a few seconds, “Am I all gone? You can’t see any plaits?”

“Nope,” said Enid, “All gone.”

“Great!” replied Mildred, jumping on the spot. “You two better get going, it’s going to start soon.”

Maud nodded and opened the door; Enid gave a thumbs-up in her general direction.

\---

Julie almost jumped out of her skin when Hecate knocked on the balcony window - she looked like some sort of bizarre urban legend, tight-bun melding unsettlingly into her silhouette like a second head.

“Miss Hardbroom!” she exclaimed, pushing the balcony door ajar, “There is a proper front door, you know.”

Hecate cleared her throat.

“I had some difficulty locating the entrance.”

“Oh, there’s a surprise,” said Julie sarcastically. “Still,” she continued, ignoring the obtuse rage on Hecate’s face, “You better come in.”

Hecate shuffled awkwardly into the room as Julie slid the door shut behind her. To her distress Julie neither offered her a seat nor ushered her to a waiting room, and she was forced to stand stock still in the strange kitchen-cum-living room, waiting as Julie flittered about aimlessly.

Hecate decided then and there she did not like the apartment. Nothing was clean cut. Rooms that should have served one purpose ended up serving many, and in place of tasteful decoration the walls were covered in mosaic mirrors and magazine cut-outs. Potted plants clung to life from various unsuitable corners, and framed pictures of Mildred’s drawings lined any surface they could get their hands on. As if that weren’t enough clutter, there were also an excessive number of family photos – no matter where she looked the cheery eyes of a Hubble stared relentlessly back at her. Some were even of Julie alone, posing with a surfboard under her arm or sitting in a bikini and grinning. Hecate pursed her lips and tried not to look at them.

 “It’s awfully nice of you to chaperon me, Miss Hardbroom,” yelled Julie from the bathroom, “But I assure you I am capable of climbing a hill on my own.”

“As I am well aware,” said Hecate, with a slight shake of her head. “Miss Cackle felt it would be… Inconvenient, for you to make your way to the castle and back alone. At night time.”

“Oh, really now?” replied Julie, flouncing back into the living room. “And what does she think I did on parents evening?”

“Yes,” said Hecate, clearing her throat. “Quite... Still,” she continued, raising her voice as Julie disappeared into the hallway once more. “At least we are not transporting you before you’re ready.”

“True,” admitted Julie bluntly, from what Hecate presumed was a bedroom. “And this _is_ much easier than trekking through the forest.”

“Well,” replied Hecate primly, smiling to herself. “There you are then.”

Julie wafted back into the living room, a huge shawl draped over her shoulders in place of a coat, messenger bag hanging resting on her hip. A row of crystal rings lined the base of her fingers, looking like a set of enchanted knuckledusters. Around her neck hung a long piece of string, looping through a stone at the bottom. Hecate raised an eyebrow.

 “I hope you’re not wearing that in mockery, Miss Hubble.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Hecate nodded at the necklace.

“Hag stones offer very little actual protection you know. And it hardly bodes as a mark of confidence in our students’ capabilities.”

“… Right. I hadn’t thought.”

Julie took the necklace off and placed it on the arm of the sofa. She turned back to Hecate, one hand on her hip.

“Better?” she asked, tone biting.

“I did not intend to be rude, Miss Hubble,” replied Hecate, rolling her eyes, “I merely wished to point out-“

“It’s fine,” said Julie dismissively, waving her hand, “It’s fine. After my last few excursions to the land of magic any embarrassment you can save me is welcome. Anyway, I’m ready. Off we go.”

Hecate’s lips twitched, but she flicked her wrist and transferred them nonetheless. Julie blinked and gave a small ‘oh’.

“I’ll _never_ get used to that,” she said breathily, one hand on her chest. She raised her eyebrows and glanced around. Familiar bunches of herbs hung above the fire place and she gave a slight chuckle of relief.

“Well now, there’s a welcome sight.”

“I felt it would be a little cruel to transfer you into the main entrance,” explained Hecate slowly, “Even for me.”

“My, my, Miss Hardbroom, was that a joke?”

Hecate felt the colour drain out of her face.

“If you like,” she replied in a strained voice. Julie snorted.

“Okay,” she said authoritatively, walking towards the door and opening it, “Let’s do this.” Hecate shuffled along a small way behind her.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to explain the rules to you, Miss Hubble?”

“We’re going to have to walk to the auditorium, aren’t we? You can explain it as we go, it can’t be that complicated. In fact, I think I’ve already got a fair idea-”

“Hecate! There you are!”

“ _Jesus_ _Christ_!”

Julie jumped out of her skin and grabbed Hecate by the arm, as a face-full of pink enthusiasm materialised inches away from her nose. Hecate froze, jumping at the force of Julie’s grip rather than the sudden apparition of Miss Pentangle.

 “Oh,” continued Pippa, completely oblivious to Julie’s distress, “You must be Mildred’s mother! I’m Pippa Pentangle, delighted to meet you.”

“Hello,” squeaked Julie, voice taught.

“Pippa, what do you want?” asked Hecate flatly, reaching down and attempting to extract Julie Hubble from her arm.

“Oh, me and Ada were looking for you! We just wanted to let you know the competition is starting!”

“What, now?” said Hecate indignantly, pulling Julie off one finger at a time.

“Yes, everyone’s here early and the competitors are ready to go, so we thought it best to get the broom in the air!”

“Well, thank you for telling us, but in fact me and Miss Hubble were planning to walk to the-“

“There you all are!”

Julie’s grip redoubled as Ada whooshed into view. Hecate jumped a little and sighed, shuffling on the spot in frustration. She took a deep breath in, then hissed out through her mouth.

“Miss Hubble!” exclaimed Ada brightly, as Hecate lost feeling in her hand. “I’m so glad you were able to make it. I apologise for this, but for the sake of brevity we felt it would be better to get started sooner. I trust you’re comfortable with transference?”

“Uh-“

“Miss Hubble and I are going to walk!” shouted Hecate, a little too loudly. “We are… Going to walk to the auditorium. Thank you.” She nodded at Ada, who in turn exchanged a puzzled look with Pippa.

“Well, I look forward to seeing you there,” said the headmistress genially, before disappearing into the ether. Pippa shrugged, then smiled at Julie with gusto.

“Have a pleasant evening, Miss Hubble,” she exclaimed, vanishing before Julie had an opportunity to answer.

There was a brief interim as Julie attempted to process proceedings.

“Does… Does that happen often?” she asked, voice wavering.

“Constantly,” drawled Hecate.

“I see...”

“Miss Hubble?”

“Yes?”

“I can’t feel my hand.”

Julie let go of Hecate’s arm and watched in dismay as the potion’s teacher vigorously shook her wrist.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s,” Hecate shook her head and cleared her throat, “It is… Quite alright.” She clasped her hands behind her back, and stood up primly, fingertips tingling. “I can only, apologise, Miss Hubble,” she said hastily, “Transference has become… A rather primary mode of transportation around here.”

“So I gathered…” replied Julie listlessly. “I tell you what though,” she continued, shaking her head slightly and coming back to life. “It’s a good thing you didn’t do that in the flat. You would’ve had a frying pan to the face faster than you can say… Hag stone.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” droned Hecate, “I believe you. Now,” she continued, walking past Julie and extending one arm down the corridor. “Shall we get going?”

“Lead the way.”

Behind them, a shadow moved conspicuously and, once they were out of sight, a small wooden maglet, complete with quill, floated ominously in the air.

_In HB’s room. Held hands? Both nervous._

_To: Maud Moonshine and Enid Nightshade._

\---

 _Sitting next to each other,_ wrote Mildred, from beneath the stands, _Legs touching. To: Maud Moonshine and Enid Nightshade._ She put the pad down and squinted upwards, giggling as Miss Hardbroom’s heavy black boots shuffled uncomfortably next her Mum’s white plimsols. It had been a challenge to get under the stands, but, although Maud had messaged her in very scrawled handwriting to say it probably wasn’t safe, Mildred felt it was better than being out in the open. At least this way, if the potion did wear off early, she’d still be out of sight. And she had space down here – if she stood up on her tippy-toes she could reach the bottom of the seats with her fingers, and certainly if she were in the mood, she could cause the people on the second and third rows some distinct discomfort. But she was on best behaviour tonight, invisibility potion aside.

The Spelling Bee was over half way through, although this time there had been no break - she’d overheard Pippa and Ada earlier, saying the parents wanted an early night. The message had dutifully been relayed to Enid and Maud a full ten minutes before it was announced. So far, the contest was a tie, but from where she was sitting Mildred couldn’t tell if that made her Mum and Miss Hardbroom happy or not. She lowered her eyeline slightly to stare at the slick black boots and velvet trousers that were sitting the row in front of her Mum, next to Enid’s stripy socks. Hopefully Mr Nightshade wouldn’t notice the stream of messages.

“Congratulations to Jeremy,” shouted Gwen, pushing Tabby out the way of the microphone. “That’s Two- Three points to Pentangle’s!”

Half the crowd erupted into a round of applause; the other half offered a polite trickle of approval.

“Whose cat _is_ that?” hissed Julie, clapping as lightly as physically possible.

“Mildred’s _,_ ” said Hecate steadily, not bothering to clap at all.

“That doesn’t look like- Actually, where is Millie? I haven’t seen her all evening.”

“I was just asking myself the same question.”

Mildred ‘hmm-ed’ thoughtfully from underneath the stands, before picking up her maglet again and writing.

_Mum doesn’t remember what Tabby looks like. Maybe memory spell?_

_To: Maud Moonshine and Enid Nightshade._

“Isn’t someone going to get it off the stage?” continued Julie, looking down at the crowd. A small pinging noise came from the row in front of them.

“Oh yes, because that would look wonderfully professional.”

“Forgive me, Miss Hardbroom, but it’s not looking very professional anyway.”

“Will you two be quiet!?”

Nathaniel Nightshade twisted in his seat and glared at them over the top of his shades. They glared back, each with the same smarmy grin, reminding him of a pair of salt and pepper shakers with little frowns drawn on. Enid tugged on her father’s sleeve.

“Leave it, Dad.”

Nathaniel scoffed.

“Not as long as they’re disrupting the competition.”

“Oh?” hissed Julie, “ _We’re_ disrupting the competition? And perhaps Enid could consider turning her phone off, hm? It’s been going off every thirty seconds.”

Nightshade senior stared at Julie as if she’d grown a second head.

“Her what?” he blurted.

“Can we have some quiet in the back row, please?” announced Gwen suddenly. All affected parties shuffled in their seats. Mr Nightshade folded his arms and twisted back round to face the front; Julie and Hecate folded their arms and slumped back, both frowning indignantly.

“Thank you. Now then, for the penultimate round we want to you to craft a transfiguration potion. We will be asking you to turn each of your team mates into an animal of your choosing, before turning them back again. A reminder that this _must_ be obtained in conjunction with the potion, any attempts to use chanting alone will be automatically disqualified, do you understand?”

“Why can’t they just use chanting,” whispered Julie, “If that does the same thing?”

“This is a test of technical skill,” drawled Hecate, “Not the pursuit of cheap tricks.”

“Well, I just think-“

“Are the competitors ready?” yelled Gwen, as amiably as it was possible to yell. She held the sand timer poised and ready. “On your marks, get set, go!”

The pupils rushed to their respective potion desks, just as Tabby jumped down from the high stand where Gwen was sitting. He circled his way gingerly through tables of ingredients, his tail catching small vials of liquid that wobbled ominously. The Pentangle’s competitor tried desperately to reach around him, and Pippa stared pointedly at Hecate from the judges’ table. Hecate sighed and flicked her wrist. Tabby, dazed but not confused, popped suddenly into Julie’s lap. Julie jumped and shook her hands as if someone had thrown a live snake on her.

“This is not what I meant!” she whispered loudly.

“Well where else would you have me put him, hmm?”

“I don’t know! Under the stands? He’s gonna, look he’s already trying to climb off me.”

“Fine, Miss Hubble, if you are so incapable of getting a cat to sit still.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have missed that class in college.”

“Give him here,” spat Hecate, reaching over to lift Tabby from Julie’s lap. “I shall be back in one moment. Do not cause any trouble.”

“Oh for God’s sake I’m not-“

But Hecate didn’t stick around long enough to hear the end of the sentence. She sighed, whooshing into existence under the stands and immediately banging her head. A few people jumped in the seats above her. She hissed slightly at the sting. Julie’s face appeared sideways through one of the gaps in the row of benches.

“Are you alright?” she hissed, with no concern whatsoever for the personal space of the gentleman sitting next to her.

“ _Fine,_ ” seethed Hecate, placing one hand against her forehead. Tabby wriggled in her grasp, and she dropped him unceremoniously.

“Stay there until we’re finished,” Hecate hissed at the cat, ready to transfer back to her seat. But Tabby began meowing loudly and she paused. He circled a spot on the floor, over and over again, purring enthusiastically. Hecate narrowed her eyes as the maglet fell into view. “No, Tabby,” whispered a voice so quiet it was barely audible, “Go away.”

The sound of the gong suddenly rippled through the audience, and Julie sat up again, pushing herself upright using the knees of the man next to her. She frowned at the stage, and then bent back down so she could look at Hecate. The man in the adjacent seat yanked his robes and shuffled away in the other direction.

“What’s he doing?” hissed Julie loudly.

“I think, Miss Hubble, Tabby may have just answered your question.”

“What question? I didn’t-“

Hecate clicked her fingers, and a small child popped into view. She sat cross-legged on the floor, writing pad in hand. Tabby meowed enthusiastically and bumped up against her knee. Julie’s jaw dropped. Mildred smiled nervously.

“And that’s another point to Cackle’s!” yelled Gwen enthusiastically, “My, my, with a draw like this, we may have to go into a round of sudden death!”

\---

Mildred had never been shouted at by her Mum and her teacher at the same time. It was quite a disconcerting experience.

“Young lady, have you been _spying_ on us?”

“I-“

“You are aware, of course, that this is not only a complete violation of personal privacy, but a punishable offence under both the Witches’ Code _and_ school rules?”

“Well, yes, but-“

“ _But_ _what!_?” snapped Julie and Hecate at the same time, before pausing and glancing at each other nervously.

“I was _worried_ ,” exclaimed Mildred, delighted to have space to breathe. “I didn’t realise you were friends. I thought someone had… I don’t know, put a spell on you or something.”

“I _beg_ your pardon?”

“You thought someone had _what_ now, Missus?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Mildred with embarrassment, pouting and looking in the other direction. “You were both acting so weird. Anyway, now I know for certain that nothing had happened, I’ll just be getting back…”

“I think not,” snapped Hecate, glowering down at her. “You will return to your room, _immediately_ , and I will see you in my office first thing tomorrow morning. Is that understood?”

“But,” began Mildred, turning to her mother for support, “I didn’t-“

“No ‘buts’, young lady. You heard Miss Hardbroom - violating someone’s privacy is a rotten thing to do, witch or not.”

Mildred sighed.

“Yes, Mum. Yes, Miss Hardbroom.”

“Good,” sniffed Hecate. She flicked her wrist and Mildred vanished, evaporating into the air with Tabby still in her arms. Julie curled her lips, frowning slightly. The gong rang from inside the hall – they had gone through with the round of sudden death after all.

“Do you think that was too harsh?” asked Julie, matter-of-factly.

“I think,” said Hecate, equally unpretentious, “That spying is, as you say, a ‘rotten thing to do.’”

There was a pause. Julie seemed unconvinced.

“Don’t worry,” Hecate continued, “She’ll only get a detention.”

“Hm,” sniffed Hubble Senior, “If you say so.”

“And that’s the final point to Pentangle’s!” roared Gwen so loud they could hear her in the corridor. A thunderous applause erupted from the hall behind them and Hecate tutted quietly. Julie glanced at the oak door and then looked at Hecate with a sympathetic smile.

“Commiserations.”

Her voice was not unkind.

“Thank you.”

The sound of applause and deranged whooping carried into the corridor. They listened to it dejectedly.

“Shall we go back inside?” asked Julie.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Hecate, tucking her chin back. “Knowing the competitiveness of certain Cackle’s parents, I have no doubt-“

The door swung open forcefully and a row of disgruntled adults began to file out, shoving Julie and Hecate dispassionately against the wall. Many were muttering bitterly, and a few appeared close to openly heckling parents from the opposing school. Pupils were scattered among them in rag-tag groups, chattering and laughing loudly, with none of the militancy of their parents. Neither Julie nor Hecate moved, both resigned to their fate.

“Are they not going to give out the trophy?” asked Julie, straining to be heard across the din.

“There’s a reception dinner,” shouted Hecate, “Did you not read the newsletter?”

Julie laughed nervously and looked in the opposite direction.

Eventually, the crush of people slowed, and a gentle trickle of individuals began making their way out the door. Some, Julie recognised: Maud and her parents, talking to Miss Cackle animatedly; Miss Bat and Mr Rowan-Webb, hobbling along a little too close together; even Miss Drill made an appearance, marching forward with the trophy under her arm. The only absentee was Miss Pentangle.

Hecate shuffled forward, peering into the hall speculatively.

“Pippa?” she called nervously, “Are you still here?”

“What? Oh, yes!” said Pippa brightly, closing her compact and mincing towards them. “Just fixing my make-up. Commiserations, Hecate.” She leant over and gave Hecate a kiss on the cheek. “I know how important the Spelling Bee is to Cackle’s.”

“Don’t… Mention it. Pentangle’s won. It was a fair fight.”

Pippa pulled a frowny face in jest, and Julie giggled.

“And how did you find it Miss Hubble?” she continued, face springing back to normal.

“Oh, very interesting, thank you! Not sure if… If I quite caught up with everything, but very interesting nonetheless.”

“That’s good,” said Pippa earnestly, nodding her head. “Were you able to spend time with Mildred at least? You know, I haven’t seen her all evening!”

“No,” droned Hecate, “One can only wonder why.”

“Oh?”

“She used an invisibility potion,” explained Julie, sighing slightly. “If you must know Miss Pentangle, she was spying on us.”

“Spying on you? What on _earth_ for?”

“Well, we didn’t quite get to the bottom of that,” Julie continued, glancing sideways at Hecate. “But it didn’t get very far. And I’m sure Miss Hardbroom will figure it out.”

“And she’ll keep you informed of the outcome,” said Pippa, “Won’t you Hecate?”

“I-“

“Oh, Hecate, you must do. This is Miss Hubble we’re talking about.”

“Yes,” replied Hecate, defeated, “Of course.”

Julie supressed a smile at Hecate’s distress.

“Are you coming to the reception dinner?” Pippa continued, smiling at Julie sincerely.

“I, uh, no. I’m actually on an early start tomorrow, so I’m afraid not.”

“Oh, that’s a shame!” exclaimed Pippa, as Hecate’s eyebrows twisted sadly, “Still, we’re delighted you were able to come, aren’t we Hecate?”

“Yes,” said Hecate, a little crestfallen.

“Besides,” continued Pippa, winking at Julie, “There’s no one better to put a little magic in your life than old HB.” Hecate felt her spirit slowly wither away. “I’ll see you at the reception, Hecate. Miss Hubble,” she said with a small nod, “Pleased to have met you.”

And she vanished.

Hecate began walking down the corridor, desperately avoiding eye-contact.

“She’s… Very affectionate with you,” said Julie, plaintively walking alongside her.

“If you say so, Miss Hubble.”

“I mean, I’m sure she’s not like that with just anybody.”

“Oh,” said Hecate dully, “I wouldn’t be so certain.”

“Oh, really? Well,” said Julie a little too jovially, “Not that it’s any of my business, but if she’s messed you around, I’m more than happy to dispense some non-magical justice on your behalf.”

“I’m sorry?” squeaked Hecate, stopping and staring at her.

“What?" said Julie, realising only too late that her half-joke had been taken as a non-joke. “No nothing, erm… I trained as a nurse you see, so I’m very good at… You know what, never mind, forget I mentioned it. But,” she continued, deciding the only way out the hole was to dig even deeper, “I am very good at helping people break-up. If you ever need it.”

Hecate made a strangled noise.

“I think…” she attempted, clearing her throat, “I think you may have got the wrong idea.”

“Oh?”

“We are not… Involved.”

“ _Oh,_ ” exclaimed Julie, nodding sagely. “That makes sense. But there’s something going on, right?”

“I’m quite sure that’s none of your business,” spat Hecate, deciding she’d put up with enough ridiculousness for one evening.

“No, you’re right, of course not… But she is very beautiful, and you-”

“And I _what,_ exactly?” asked Hecate threateningly.

“I mean,” continued Julie, her misplaced confidence rendering her oblivious to the warning signs, “You clearly like each other, and I could always set you-”

“Miss Hubble,” interrupted Hecate, rounding on her with a forcefulness Julie found distinctly unsettling, “I would remind you that we are _not_ friends, that I am _not_ here because I want to be, and that you“ – and here she paused to stab a finger in Julie’s direction – “Have _no_ right to ask _invasive_ and _personal_ questions. Do you understand?”

Julie’s face fell frozen. Her mouth hung open dumbly and she looked away, suddenly realising quite how scary Miss Hardbroom could be. Except this was worse than scary, because she wasn’t yelling, she wasn’t speaking in a ridiculous stage whisper, and she was, quite opaquely, deeply hurt. Julie didn’t even have a witty comeback.

Hecate turned and began to walk down the corridor again, unmoved by Julie’s silence. Julie trudged along behind, staring uncomfortably at the ground. She took no more than four steps before she decided it was time to leave.

“I should probably go.”

“Yes,” snapped Hecate, “I think that would be wise.” She stopped and turned full body. “Goodbye, Miss Hubble.”

“Thank you for finding Millie,” said Julie hastily, “I hope the rest of the evening goes well.”

“You’re welcome.”

And with a flick of her wrist she sent Julie away.

Hecate crossed her arms and stared haughtily at the now empty spot on the floor.

“Nosy hippie.” 

She turned and began to walk away, following the cacophony of the reception dinner.

But, as she strode towards the noise, the silence in the corridor behind her only became more acute. An air of regret began to brew. Hecate slowed and came to a stop, sighing - she’d just dispensed her only ally in a fit of exceedingly petty rage. She was really, truly, not in the mood to cosy up to Nathanial Nightshade _et al._ Or the rest of the staff for that matter. Or the pupils. Her faced softened and she sagged slightly. Miss Hubble may have been disarmingly cheerful and unsettlingly forthright, but she’d much rather spend time with her than any of _them_. And now there wasn’t even a way she could apologise. She exhaled heavily, and began to mutter quietly, admonishing herself for her own sensitivity.  

She clasped her hands behind her back, barely audible curses on her lips, and trudged slowly, reluctantly, towards the reception hall.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Hecate had been alarmingly considerate since the Spelling Bee. Naturally, she’d tried to hide it, but there was no denying that her sudden apparitions in the corridors had become less of a given and more of an incidental feature. And while Mildred did indeed get detention for that evening, and for all the characteristic mishaps that followed in the closing weeks of the Autumn Term, there was a marked geniality in the nature of Hardbroom’s usually mind-numbing detentions. Internally, Hecate knew that child-parent telepathy did not exist, and that it was impossible to communicate her regret at banishing Julie that evening through her daughter. But she hoped that treating Mildred with an unquestionable level of thoughtfulness went someway to making up for it.

More alarming than her own remorse was that this uncertain kindness had only furthered the positive trend Mildred was beginning to display in November. Although Hecate was loathed to admit it, the child’s grades were slowly beginning to climb. While she did not consider the jump from a consistent F- to a consistent E+ one that was to be particularly celebrated, over the course of a two months it did represent a minor improvement. And, with the sole exception of her summer project, Mildred Hubble had not improved her grades since she started at Cackle’s a year and a half ago. It was a tragic blow to Hecate’s self-righteousness.

For her part, beyond still feeling slightly unsettled by Hardbroom’s new attitude (or rather, the decrement in her old attitude), Mildred found her Mum unfathomably obsessed with the potion’s mistress. She tried to be discreet of course, but a simple ‘Did HB give you any trouble today?’ or ‘And how was potions?’ was inevitably coupled with the signature tousling of the hair, and that she posed the questions at all betrayed the fact she had taken the time to learn when Mildred was due to have potion’s. Yet, thankfully for Julie, after the Spelling Bee and the sheer disconcertion of being simultaneously admonished by her favourite teacher and her mother, Mildred had decided to leave well enough alone. There was still something going on, but clearly neither her Mum nor Miss Hardbroom wanted to acknowledge it. And for the sake of an easier life, the investigation, Mildred had decided, was not worth pursuing.

Julie didn’t realise how often she asked Mildred about her potion’s teacher. She knew that she was keeping an eye on the situation, the beginning of the year and her visit to Miss Cackle’s office not yet entirely forgotten, but she acutely underestimated her own doggedness. Even if she had noticed the disconcerting regularity at which she rephrased the same question, she would never have acknowledged her own genuine interest. Miss Hardbroom wanted nothing to do with her, a sentiment Julie convinced herself she was returning. The potion’s mistress was a miserable stick-in-the-mud, and she did not need that sort of energy blocking her already severely clogged chakra. Still, no amount of meditation could stop her thinking about Miss Hardbroom’s glorious hair, or how delightfully tall she was, or her unexpected sensitivity, which in the infinite playback loop of Julie’s mind was becoming as endearing at it was frustrating. But then Julie would inevitably end up think about Hardbroom’s complicated relationship with Miss Pentangle, and have to start her sun salutation all over again.

As it was, neither party needed to mope around quite as dramatically as they insisted on. It was almost inevitable that, regardless of everyone’s best efforts, Mildred would not survive the half-term without some form of spectacular misadventure. And while the debacle that occurred on the final day before Winter Holidays would never make for an interesting story, it did have the singular consequence of bringing Miss Hardbroom and Julie together again. Even if that was at the expense of Mildred’s arm.

\---

Hecate found the door. It was to her unbridled relief. She had no wish to scare Miss Hubble, and was in no doubt that the promised ‘frying pan to the face’ would be delivered if she popped-up unannounced.

She swallowed, steeling herself, and knocked heavily on the door. There was no reply. She shuffled awkwardly on the spot – she didn’t know what she would if Julie wasn’t in. In fact, she had no contingency plan at all, and the thought of returning to Mildred and Ada empty-handed filled her with a renewed sense of urgency. Her knuckles collided with the door so quickly it sounded like a woodpecker. 

“Alright!” came a cry from inside, and Hecate stopped, wilting with relief. “Jesus, what is it!?”

Her voice died in her throat when she pushed the door ajar. Julie scrabbled to take the chain off the latch, and held the door open, standing full force in the entrance to the corridor. Hecate swallowed and Julie’s eyes filled with panic. Neither had a good poker face.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Mildred-“

“Oh _shit_ , I knew something like this would happen again.”

“She’s safe,” said Hecate quickly, stumbling over her words, desperately trying to follow her pre-rehearsed script. “And stable. There’s been an accident. Not, a major one, but…”

“But what?” demanded Julie, crossing her arms and standing in a corporate power pose. 

 “Well,” hurried Hecate, “I think it would be best if we showed you.”

“Fine.” Julie turned and walked inside, glaring at Hecate when she did not move too. “Come in then,” she snapped, “I can lock it better from the inside.”

Hecate stepped gingerly into the flat, as Julie raced down the hall and hoisted an elaborate set of keys from the kitchen table. She pushed past Hecate, slamming the door shut and working her way, bottom to top, through the set of locks. She shoved the keys the pocket of her harem pants and turned back to Hecate, who was watching the brutal efficiency with a strange mix of admiration and fear.

“Go on then,” barked Julie, “Mush, mush.”

Hecate did exactly as she was told.

They appeared in the Cackle’s infirmary instantaneously. Julie blinked and teetered forward, still not used to the transference. Hecate reached out and grabbed her wrist, steadying her. Julie gripped Hecate’s arm on automatic. She felt Hecate’s hand on her and met the teacher’s gaze - their faces were far too close together. Julie swallowed and yanked her hand away.

“Mum?”

Mildred’s voice was quiet, but far from faltering. Julie turned on the spot and powerwalked to the bed.

“Mildred!” she exclaimed as she sat down, wrapping her arms around Mildred and repeatedly kissing the top of her head. “Oh Millie, I’m so glad you’re okay. I thought something terrible had happened.”

“I’m fine Mum,” said Mildred stiffly, face squashed under Julie’s protective hand. “I just fell, that’s all.”

“You _just_ fell? Millie your arm’s in a sling! Have they given you something for the pain? When are we having an x-ray? Have you called 111 yet?”

She stared up at Hecate expectantly.

“Mum,” coughed Mildred, “You can let go now-“

Julie’s stare shifted into a glower.

“You haven’t done anything, have you? How could you let this happen? Of all the stupid things-“

“Actually,” said Ada slowly, approaching from the other side of the room like a particularly genteel Bond villain, “I think you should ask Mildred what happened.”

Julie turned and watched as the headmistress wound her way to Hecate’s side. Hecate pursed her lips and cocked her head triumphantly; Julie narrowed her eyes, but nevertheless loosened her grip of Mildred. Mildred sagged slightly, putting her free arm in her lap and avoiding eye contact.

“What happened, Millie?”

“I… Thought Tabby was on the roof,” said Mildred tentatively.

“Which is not uncommon,” added Ada, in an admirable attempt at moral support.

“And so… I went to go find him.”

“You mean you flew,” said Hecate levelly. “Out your window, at night time, in the rain, in winter.”

“And I slipped,” continued Mildred mournfully. “If Miss Hardbroom hadn’t heard me, I don’t know how long I would’ve been out there…”

Julie rolled her eyes and she exhaled.

“Well,” she scoffed, looking at her daughter with gentle disapproval, “I suppose it can’t be helped when they have you using flying sticks to get about.”

“It is fortunate then,” sniffed Hecate, “That we have been using ‘flying sticks’ long enough to have cures for fall damage. Isn’t it?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” came Julie’s slingshot reply, “I didn’t realise you could ‘cure’ broken bones. My, the ordinary world will be impressed.”

“Well,” said Ada tentatively, “It’s not quite as simple as that.”

“There’s a surprise.”

“It has to be taken every hour,” continued Ada gently.

“I’m sorry, what, exactly, needs to be taken every hour?”

“All Fall Potion, Miss Hubble. I assure you,” she added swiftly, “I did not come up with the name.”

“And what does it do, this ‘All Fall Potion’?”

“Heals broken bones, mainly,” replied Ada. “Bones, cuts, scratches, that sort of thing. Naturally not very good in an emergency, but it can fix you up right as rain if administered properly.”

“Oh yes, and how long does that take, hmm?”

“Between eight to twelve hours,” drawled Hecate, “Usually.”

“And the side effects?”

“Drowsiness,” railed Hecate, maintaining an impressive state of monotony. “But otherwise, it is quite harmless. I make it myself.”

“Wow,” said Julie sarcastically, “That _is_ reassuring. And does it work on anyone, this mysterious magic potion?”

“Well, this is why we called you,” said Ada gingerly. “Beyond the obvious, of course.”

“Of course.”

“You see,” she continued, “Potions typically only work on those with magic. And while Mildred does have magic, her somewhat… Unusual heritage, may mean it is less effective. Or indeed, may not work at all.”

“So what, you want her to be a Guinea pig?”

“We want you to make a decision regarding your daughter’s medical care,” replied Hecate flatly. “There is a difference. After all, you are well aware of how long this may take to heal otherwise, are you not?”

“Erm,” ventured Mildred, tentatively joining the conversation again, “How long _will_ it take to heal, Mum? If I don’t take the potion.”

“Well, that’s very difficult to know love, without an X-ray, but I’m sure once we make an appointment-“

“Two months,” said Hecate bluntly.

“ _Two months!?”_ squeaked Mildred. “I’m going to have my entire arm in bandages for _two months?_ ”

Julie shot Hecate a warning look before replying.

“Well, as I said sweetheart, I don’t know for sure, but… No less than six weeks. And then some.”

“Mum, I can _not_ have my arm like this for six weeks. It hurts. I can’t fly, I can’t carry Tabby, I can’t do anything! And the Christmas holidays start _tomorrow_!”

“Well, I’m sure me and Auntie Mo will be able to help-”

“I want to take the potion.”

“I know you do love, but I’m not sure-“

“Why _not_!?” snapped Mildred, shouting suddenly, “Just because _you’re_ not a witch and it will never help _you_ , you want to stop me from taking it too! That’s not fair Mum! Don’t you always say it’s my body, and no one else can tell me what to do with it? I want to take the potion, and you’re just _jealous_ that you can’t, because you’re _boring_ and _ordinary_ -“

“Mildred Hubble!” roared Hecate, “How _dare_ you speak to your mother like that!”

She realised too late just how enthusiastically she’d come to Julie’s defence. All eyes rounded on her in shock. Mildred, climatically adjusted to Hecate’s wrath, looked into her lap and mumbled an apology; Julie blinked, eyebrows raised in surprised, mouth hanging open; Ada, the last to recover, simply stared at her, utterly gobsmacked.

“Miss Hardbroom,” Julie began, whispering loudly, “That was _not_ necessary.”

Hecate cleared her throat and glanced at Ada cautiously. The headmistress’ expression did not change. Hecate turned back to Julie, swallowing loudly. Julie tightened her arm around Mildred defensively.

“Yes, I, uh,“ she coughed slightly. “That was… My apologies, Miss Hubble.” Julie nodded at Mildred, staring at Hecate as pointedly as possible. “My… Apologies, Mildred,” continued Hecate, face strained. Now it was Mildred’s turn to stare in disbelief. Ada’s eyebrows somehow rose even higher. “Miss Cackle and I shall leave you to make your decision, _alone_. Isn’t that right, headmistress?”

“Um… Yes,” stuttered Ada, “That… That may be for the best.”

She flicked her wrist, and both herself and Hecate vanished into thin air. They appeared in Ada’s office a fraction of a second later.

“Hecate,” she began, “Do you have something you want to tell me?”

“No, Ada.”

“Well,” replied the headmistress, voice sinking into anger, “In that case I’m sure you won’t mind answering any and every question Miss Hubble has about the potion, and acting as her guide, and doing quite literally anything she asks, because you are going to have to go some to make up for your _consistent unprofessionalism_!”

Hecate looked at her feet.

“Yes, Ada.”

“I thought things were fine!”

“Sorry, Ada.”

“I just…” Ada exhaled heavily, calming herself. She took another deep breath in, and then began pacing. “Look,” she began, speaking slowly, “I am not going to shaft this on you because I am your boss and I am trying to be fair, but please, just, make, an effort.”

And then Ada shafted it on her anyway.

\---

“Well,” said Julie dryly, “Here we are again.”

“Yes,” replied Hecate, clearing her throat, “Here we are again.”

Hecate flicked her wrist and the bedroom door shut gently. Neither of them moved.

“Is there not a school nurse that should be doing this?”

“Miss Cackle felt you would feel more comfortable sharing with me, seeing as you’ve done it before.” Julie pursed her lips. “And,” continued Hecate monosyllabically, “It _is_ closer to Mildred’s room.”

“Yes,” said Julie stiffly, “It is.”

Wax began from one of the candles began to drip onto the mantlepiece, and Hecate glared at it until it reproachfully slithered back towards the flame. Julie coughed slightly.

“Thank you for sending me back to the flat, by the way, so I could get my stuff.”

 “You are… Welcome,” said Hecate, without looking at her.

Julie adjusted the bag on her shoulder. There was another empty interim.  

“Did you really find Mildred outside?”

Hecate nodded slightly.

“I don’t think she was there long.”

“Good,” said Julie, nodding, “That’s good.”

The fireplace huffed loudly, bored of this pathetic display. Flames whipped up the chimney, and a large log collapsed heavily on top of its companion, landing with a loud dull thud.

“I just want to apologise-“

“About the other night-“

They exchanged a wary look.

Eventually the tension gave-up and quietly limped away.

Julie chuckled; Hecate sighed with relief.

The fireplace mellowed.

“You go first,” said Julie, smirking with playful familiarity rather than malice. Hecate smiled weakly.

“I wish to apologise…” she said uncomfortably, “For my behaviour. Both… Now and at the Spelling Bee.”

“Apology accepted,” said Julie, “I’m sorry I ask both personal _and_ invasive questions.”

“Apology accepted,” said Hecate curtly.

More silence. If the fireplace had eyes it would be rolling them.

“Shall I… Make the bed?” asked Hecate stiffly.

“Oh, right!” said Julie, dropping the bag off her shoulder and onto the vanity. “I’ll get the night stand out the way.”

The minutes that followed were gentle. Hecate felt almost routine having Julie in her room, taking up enough space to make her presence known without slipping into the realm of complete obstruction. Julie flouncing into the bathroom, sardonically told to use the middle chain on the toilet; Julie forgetting her makeup remover and scrubbing her mascara off with cold water; Julie flouncing out again, showing far more leg than Hecate felt was really necessary. The only real difference this time round was that Julie had her own toothbrush and set of pyjamas. Well, an old vest top and some pyjamas shorts from her late twenties, but that was close enough.

Once Julie was done in the bathroom she lay down on her bed and began flicking through the magazine she’d brought with her. Hecate sat at the vanity and tried not to look at her legs.

“You know,” she began, brushing her hair as a means of advertising her disinterest, “Mildred’s grades have gone up.”

Julie dropped the magazine to her chest and stared at Hecate in the mirror.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” said Hecate, trying to be blasé.

Julie’s jaw dropped and she grinned broadly, an all too familiar ‘get-a-load-of-this’ expression dancing across her features. Then her grin shifted and she smiled coquettishly, eyeing Hecate in the mirror.

“You know,” she began, voice playful and only just genuine enough for her to get away with it, “You really achieve incredible things when you’re not acting like a cow.”

Hecate’s lip twitched, but she responded with such minimal recoil it was obvious the back-handed compliment had landed.

“Well,” she said, reply twanging back at Julie like a rubber-band. “If that’s how you feel then you’re welcome to sleep in someone else’s room. I hear the kitchens are nice and drafty this time of year.”

Julie grinned and sat up, discarding the magazine on the bed-stand. “And why would I do that?” she asked, voice low and tone facetious, “When I’m already so cosy here?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” exaggerated Hecate. Julie stood up and wound her way behind the back of Hecate’s chair. “I hear bovines don’t make for very good roommates.” She looked at Julie in the mirror, lips pursed and eyebrows raised. Julie snorted.

“Don’t be daft,” she said, swotting Hecate lightly on the shoulder. She replaced her hand as nonchalantly as she could. “I wouldn’t dream of sharing with anyone else.”

The air changed.

Hecate looked at Julie in the mirror and swallowed. Julie was gazing at her gently, far more tenderly than she knew she deserved. She lowered her hand and the hair brush dropped softly into her lap. Julie didn’t move, oblivious to everything but her own affection. Hecate’s fingers began to tremble, almost imperceptibly so, and she felt her grip on the hair brush slacken. The room was still in a way that the ordinary world would never allow - more than physics or science or any earthily theorem besides magic would deign to be possible.

A hundred burning candles were holding their breath.

“You know,” said Julie, voice both matter-of-fact and distant, “You really are magnificent.” Her eyes widened suddenly. “Oh my god,” she squeaked, pulling her hand away from Hecate’s shoulder, “I am so sorry I didn’t-“

“No,” said Hecate quietly, reaching up and putting her hand on top of Julie’s. She was gripped by an emotional clarity so rare she felt she could not allow it to escape. “So are you.”

Julie inhaled sharply and looked back in the mirror, breathless as her hand rested on Hecate’s shoulder once more. Hecate was watching her curiously, eyebrows twisted apologetically, her smile almost one of sadness. When they caught each other’s gaze, both held on too long. Julie swallowed nervously. Hecate’s expression did not change, but she tightened her grasp on Julie’s hand, ever so slightly.

Even the fire had forgotten how to move. 

It was too much. Julie drew her hand back and coughed into it unflatteringly, turning her back on the mirror and walking away slightly. She felt a primal need to put distance between herself and the teacher. Hecate pushed her chair back so hard it ground noisily against the floor. She flopped her hair to the side and began plaiting it messily, distracted and embarrassed at her own tenderness.

“What time do we need to give Millie her second dose?” asked Julie loudly, looking at the opposite wall.

“Ten,” said Hecate, hands fumbling desperately with her hair. “What time does the clock say?”

“Five-to. I’ll go this time, shall we take it in shifts?”

Hecate nodded, and when Julie glanced at her in confusion, she nodded again.

“Right,” continued Julie. “We’re keeping the bottle in her room, as planned?”

She avoided looking at Hecate too long.

“Exactly,” said Hecate primly. “I trust you know what to do.”

“Two spoonfuls,” quipped Julie, diving back into a comfortable round of insults, “No more, no less. I know you may be shocked to learn this, Miss Hardbroom, but I am familiar with the concept.”

“I’m sure Mildred will be most grateful,” replied Hecate, riposting satisfactorily.

“You’re going next, right?”

“Yes. The alarm is set.”

“Well then,” said Julie, opening the door and letting a rush of cold air into the bedroom. “See you on the other side.”

The rest of the night passed uneventfully. They stayed awake until eleven, when Hecate administered Mildred’s final dose before going to bed herself. But even though Hecate’s now shared room was plunged into darkness, the alarm would still ping every hour. Each time they would rise wearily, like tired parents of a new born child, and one would shuffle across the stone-cold floor to the wounded teen. Well, Julie would shuffle - Hecate settled for unflatteringly transferring herself a few feet.

By 1am Mildred could no longer tell who was who. She could not sleep deeply, propped up against a pillow to prevent weight on her still painful arm. The resulting paradox of sleeplessness and magically induced drowsiness melted the world around her. In the haze of fatigue anyone kind enough to gently wake her became ‘No Mum, I’m too tired’ or ‘It tastes weird, Mum’ or, worst of all, as Hecate learnt on her penultimate trip at three in the morning, ‘Thanks Mum, I love you.’

Still, despite the restlessness that night, each member of the unfortunate trio was able fulfil their duty and, by 5:27am, the cracks in Mildred’s bones had all but finished sealing.

\---

Hecate was already awake when the final alarm pinged at 6am. She had lit the fire, both to warm the room and provide reading light in the pitch-winter morning. She flicked disinterestedly through an out-of-date herbalist’s tome, thumbing the pages listlessly. Julie stirred in the bed besides her, before rolling over and smacking the alarm of the table. It clattered onto the floor and kept ringing. Hecate rolled her eyes.

“Good morning, Miss Hubble.”

“Oh,” said Julie, disorientated, “Are we at actual morning now?”

“Mhm,” replied Hecate, watching as Julie flopped out of bed. “You will note that in winter, the sun typically takes longer to rise.”

Julie sneered, but didn’t actually reply. She picked up the alarm clock and whacked it aggressively, deadening the shrill cry. She threw it onto the bed and shuffled out of the room. Hecate watched cautiously as she left.

Two minutes later Julie came back, talking wildly.

“It worked!”

Hecate smiled.

“Mildred’s arm, it’s all- It’s not even swollen and she can move it and she says it doesn’t hurt! I mean,” she continued, coughing and calming slightly, “I’m still going to get an x-ray, but... I think it really worked.”

“Yes,” said Hecate, nodding slightly, “I told you we know what we’re doing.”

“Don’t you want to come look?”

“At what?” said Hecate, frowning slightly. “I knew it would work.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Julie with playful exasperation. She reached down and grabbed Hecate by the wrist, tugging at her. The herbalist’s tome fell onto the bed. “Come look at your own miracles for once.”

Hecate did not rise, nor did she pull her hand away.

“I’m sure Mildred will be excited to show you,” coaxed Julie, shaking her wrist so Hecate’s arm bounced up and down like an unenthusiastic snake. Hecate pursed her lips. Julie smiled at her expectantly.

“Fine,” sniffed Hecate, putting the book on the pillow and getting out of bed. “But do not expect an ardent display of enthusiasm. That is _not_ my area of speciality.”

Mildred really was excited to show her. She waved excessively and threw her hands together in overexcited star-jumps. Hecate nodded, smiling though she was neither surprised nor impressed. Eventually, Julie gently admonished Mildred and put her arm back in the sling, ‘just in case’. Mildred voiced moderate annoyance but did not push the matter. They began talking, Julie sitting on the edge of Mildred’s bed, arm around her shoulder. Hecate swept quietly out of the room.

She showered quickly and dressed in the bathroom, leaving her hair in the plait. When she opened the bathroom door Julie was sitting on the bed, fully-clothed and cross-legged. Her bag was next to her, and she rifled through the magazine indifferently.

“Well,” said Hecate, sitting down at the vanity, “I trust you’ll have a little more faith in our methods, in future.”

“I’d have more faith if you didn’t fly about on brooms,” said Julie, bluntly. “But yes,” she conceded, “It does seem to have worked.”

Julie shoved the magazine into her bag and stood. Hecate watched her in the mirror.

“Oh,” she said despondently, “Will you not stay for breakfast?”

“Well,” said Julie, not unkindly, “Millie’s going to be home in a few hours. I have a little safe-guarding of my own to do.”

Hecate smiled, both amused and sympathetic. Julie smiled back. There was a horrible idea floating in the back of her mind. It swam forward and nipped at her toes.

“Miss Hardbroom?” she asked, running her fingers through her hair.

“Yes?”

“Millie’s staying with her Aunt for a few days over Christmas, I don’t erm… I don’t suppose you might like to do something? As a way of saying thank you for” – Julie gestured vaguely around the room – “Everything.”

Hecate frowned.

“I’m… Not quite sure that would be appropriate, Miss Hubble.”

“No, well,” replied Julie hastily. “It’s not a formal request. And Mildred wanted to get you a present anyway this year for Christmas. Winter Solstice, whatever. But if you would like… I think it might be nice to go and have a meal somewhere? Or even just for a few drinks, nothing, erm… There’s no pressure. And of course, if you’d rather not I’m more than happy to just send a card and… Yes.”

“Would…” Hecate cleared her throat and blinked back her surprise. Her voice was strained, but not through anger. “Would it be possible for me to answer at a later occasion? I can leave a message on your mirror if… If that would be acceptable.”

“Yes, of course! Millie’s going to be at Mo’s from the 17th to the 21st and I can switch shifts quite easily so if you just let me know which one of those days works best and… Yeah. Just leave me a message. And there’s no pressure, really.”

“None… Taken.”

Julie held onto the door frame. Hecate coughed slightly. The fireplace crackled contentedly.

“Well,” said Julie, clearing her throat, “I better get going. I’ll see Millie in a little while I’m sure.”

“Yes,” said Hecate, limply. “We have morning assembly today, and then she’ll be flying back home. _Without_ falling off.”

“No,” said Julie, with a wry smile. “I’m sure she won’t make that mistake again,”

Neither of them moved.

“Miss Hardbroom? I was wondering if you could-“

“Oh, yes! Yes, of course. I am glad Mildred appears well, and I shall get in contact with you as soon as I am able.”

Julie smiled a bit more earnestly.

“Thank you, Miss Hardbroom. I’ll see you later.”

\---

It took less than five minutes for Hecate to find herself outside Ada’s living quarters.

“ _Ada!_ ” she hissed, banging frantically on the Headmistress’ door, “Ada, are you awake!?” There was no reply for a few moments, and Hecate repeated the routine even louder. After three attempts Ada answered, decidedly unamused.

“It is barely seven in the morning,” she said, slowly opening the door. “What on earth is going on?”

“I need to talk to you,” said Hecate, pushing past her so aggressively she almost knocked the cup out of Ada’s hands. “It’s about Miss Mildred. Miss Hubble. Miss Hubble and Mildred.”

“Are you quite alright, Hecate? Did the potion fail?”

“Mildred’s fine,” said Hecate dismissively. “She’s coming to assembly this morning then going home as usual.”

“Oh, good,” said Ada, shutting the door, “That’s good.” She shuffled over to one of the armchairs and sat down heavily. A black cat jumped delicately into her lap, and she leant back into the chair, settling in comfortably. “But in that case,” she continued, “What’s wrong?”

Hecate turned her hands a few times, struggling to articulate herself.  

“I think… Miss Hubble may have… Asked me out for a meal?”

“Oh, as a thank you?” said Ada, taking a small sip of tea. “That’s nice of her.”

“No,” replied Hecate darkly, shuffling over and sitting in the chair opposite, “You don’t understand.”

“Don’t I?” replied the headmistress, whooshing a footstall in front of herself and resting her fluffy bunny slippers on it. “Why, what did she say?”

“I…” Hecate’s mouth hung open slightly as she attempted to find the words. “It’s not so much what she said, but the way she said it.”

“And how did she say it?”

“I don’t,” muttered Hecate, talking with her hands, “I think she may have meant it as…” She leaned in close and whispered dramatically. “As a _non-professional excursion._ ”

“Hecate,” said Ada flatly, “You are allowed to have a life outside of work.”

Hecate riled back as if she were being attacked by a cobra.

“Ada, you of all people-“

“Just go on the date Hecate, I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Do you think it’s a date?” squeaked Hecate, voice rising an octave.

“Oh,” said Ada, completely unfazed, “Did I call it a date?”

Hecate nodded dumbly.

“Slip of the tongue,” Ada continued, shrugging slightly. “Unless, of course, you want it to be a date?”

Hecate took a sharp breath inwards, and then apparently forgot to exhale, because after five seconds of terrified contemplation her throat closed up in a gentle reminder that she needed to breathe. She bent over the arm of the chair and began spluttering frantically, performing an award worthy display of facial acrobatics.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Ada plaintively, wearing the same expression as her cat.

“No,” attempted Hecate, coughing wildly, “That’s-“

“I mean,” continued Ada, enjoying the occasion far too much, “She is your type after all - blonde hair, nice smile…”

“What the _hell_ ” – cough – “Is” – cough –  “ _That_ supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing,” said Ada. “Nothing at all. Just… Forget I mentioned it. Although, I must admit, you are starting to sound a bit like her.” Hecate glared at her as angrily as she could with watering eyes. “Go for the meal,” continued Ada, coolly. “I think it’ll be nice. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Do you,” Hecate began, clearing her throat and trying to sit upright. “Do you really” – cough – “Think it’s a good idea?”

“I think it will be a good opportunity for you two to bond.”

Hecate narrowed her eyes.

“I’m sure I remember you saying, oh, only yesterday, that I need to be more ‘professional.’”

“Yes,” said Ada, with a little more force. “When we’re in school. Just because I don’t want you to spill your soul in front of two hundred impressionable teenagers does not mean you are forbidden from having friends.” She watched Hecate wilt slightly. “It’s the holidays. Go have some fun. You do remember what that is, don’t you?”

“Oh, hardy-har.”

Hecate stood up and straightened her dress.

“Fine,” she said, voice haughty, “I shall go for the meal. But if it all goes wrong, then on your head be it.”

Ada nodded gracefully as Hecate was swept into the void.

The headmistress picked up her tea and finished the cup. After decades of friendship she was used to Hecate’s emotional blundering. For someone so powerful and so righteous, Hecate Hardbroom had all the self-awareness of a pebble. It was an odd contrast, but a delightful reminder that no one could be skilled in all facets of life. Everyone knew that if it weren’t for Hecate, Ada would have lost Cackle’s long ago. What they did not know, is that if it weren’t for Ada, Hecate would be living in someone’s attic, periodically stalking the city’s Green Belt for Night-Blooming Nonsuch and otherwise never leaving the house. And besides, unless someone gave her permission, Hecate would never allow herself any opportunity of happiness. Of course, Ada was not the only person who knew this about Hecate, but she was the only person willing to give her permission.


	5. Chapter 5

Hecate had left a message on Julie’s mirror that very day. Julie hadn’t noticed it at first, too delirious from her restless night and the pain-staking twelve-hour shift that followed. But she did realise the following morning, when, instead of her own face in the glass, an unflattering image of Miss Hardbroom peered speculatively out at her. The message itself was awkward but not rude, Hecate politely explaining the dates she could do and that she’d like to pay. Her hand reached forward to hang up, and she quickly explained how Julie could call her back before disappearing from the glass.

It took Julie three attempts to reach her again; once when she wasn’t there, once when Miss Cackle answered instead, and then finally, once when Hecate was sitting at her vanity mirror, carefully putting on her make-up. There was a small smudge of mascara on her nose when she answered, startled from the call, but Julie thought it was too endearing to say anything. (Julie also thought it was utterly gross that a bit of misplaced mascara could so easily win her affections, but that was an internal conflict she did not care to advertise.)

Hecate insisted on paying again, blithely pointing out that money did not hold such concrete significance in the witching world as it did in the ordinary world. Julie, ever the pragmatist, did not push the point. She did, however, insist that she chose the restaurant – they had spent far too long on Hecate’s turf, and it was time to level the playing field. Not that she said that out loud. Hecate dithered and eventually agreed, but only after formulating an extensive list of the foods she would not or could not eat. For someone who preached simplicity, her tastes were surprisingly complex.

Julie had racked her brains hurriedly, ruling out the Turkish restaurant down the road and the incredible Chinese place a few streets away. Eventually they settled on an Italian that Julie walked past on her way to work. It was only near the bus stop, but was so fancy she had never had reason, nor suitable funds, to set foot in there. She made the suggestion and Hecate reluctantly agreed, asking hastily about the dress code. Julie shrugged and said ‘posh’. Hecate had pursed her lips but did not press the matter further. After that was the simple matter of time and date, and who would pick up who (a stupid question considering where Hecate lived).

\---

Hecate spent the next three days flitting nervously through Cackle’s empty halls. She had work to do, of course, but her agitation played havoc with her ability to concentrate. And there were very few people around to help. Algernon and Gwen spent nearly their entire time in the school hall, Gwen blasting unceremoniously on the organ as she muddled her way through next term’s syllabus. Algernon usually brought his marking in with him and sat on the floor, able to concentrate despite the din. Dimity was on a hiking holiday of all things, flouncing about in Peru with a bunch of morons who actually _enjoyed_ being outside.

Even Ada was no good. She was always distant around the holidays, childhood memories of Christmas cheer providing little comfort given her now fractured family. Sometimes Hecate sat with her and read, or hauled a desk into Ada’s office so they could do their marking alongside each other. But Ada didn’t ask any more questions about Miss Hubble, and Hecate could never concentrate long enough to get any real work done anyway. And so, for the most part, she was on her own.

Julie had taken three shifts in a row to make room for her meal with Miss Hardbroom. It was ridiculous she knew, and she probably wouldn’t need the morning off afterwards, but she swapped both her night and early morning shifts anyway. Just in case. The main challenge had been finding something to wear. The gaudy places were out of the question, but charity shops left sparse pickings around Christmas time, and she’d had to go out in every ‘lunch’ break she’d been given just to find something. Eventually she stumbled upon a trouser/blazer combo that didn’t look too disastrous. True, it was covered in cat hairs when she bought it, but after a quick spin in the washing machine (anxiously set to ‘delicates’), it had come out alright.

She had kept silent at work, despite everyone asking where she was running off to at every free moment. She could have talked - the hospital was as heart-breaking as it was miraculous, and everyone was always keen for gossip that didn’t involve some form of physical injury. But she merely chose not to. She didn’t even doll it up, the way she had with Mildred’s ‘boarding school scholarship’. It was private, she had decided. And despite what everyone said, she was allowed to keep some things private.

\---

Hecate patted the sides of her head nervously. She’d followed Julie’s compliments, wearing her hair almost loose, pinning it up only to stop it falling in her face. But it was uncomfortable for her, or at least unfamiliar, and she lived in constant fear of one side drooping lower than the other. Not to mention it was impractical. Beneath her coat she was wearing one of the few V-neck dresses she possessed; a plain dinner gown, made of simple black fabric that covered her wrists and fell to the floor. It enthusiastically hugged what little curves she had, making her look like a knock-off Morticia Addams that had spent too long hung up to dry. Not that she would have understood the reference. Hecate patted her hair again, and knocked on the door uncertainly. Julie answered almost immediately.

She looked far better than Hecate had expected. Not that she ever thought Julie looked bad per se, but she had a sort of consistent scruffiness that Hecate had grown accustom to gently deriding. There was no way she was going to be able to do that tonight. Julie wore a bright blue trouser suit, flatteringly pinching in at her waist, tailored blazer hanging open. To Hecate’s relief the blouse beneath was plain and slightly see-through, giving away it’s cheap synthetic origin. A set of crystal rings clattered on her fingers the same way they had during the Spelling Bee, and the combination of cheap blouse and cheaper decoration put Hecate fractionally at ease.

The walk to the restaurant was mercifully short, and when they arrived, they took it in turns to rush to the toilet, each trying desperately to adjust their windswept hair before the other noticed. Once seated, they mused the menus intensely, taking their time and trying to ignore each other. Both were gripped by a teenage nervousness, fear of embarrassment clashing violently with desire to impress. The waiter came over after a few moments later, and took their order before either were really ready.

Once the menus where gone they were finally forced to interact properly. The initial attempts were not pretty. The conversation plodded slowly in the din of the restaurant, deflated and awkward. They had only ordered a jug of water at the time, Julie determined not to spend quite all of Hecate’s money, but after ten minutes of limp discussion about the weather and work, both were desperate. Julie caught a waiter’s arm and asked for a glass of white; Hecate, a regular teetotaller, did the same.  

The portions were enormous.

Half a glass later Julie was speaking animatedly, and although Hecate’s cup was still almost full, she too eased back into her chair, tentatively relaxing. She didn’t know if the room was quieter or if her dinner partner was just talking louder, but either way it did the trick. By the time starters arrived they were bumping along merrily. They talked about all manner of things; magic, and how and why it worked; money, and how and why witches nearly always had so much; even a few of Hecate’s family members waltzed into the conversation, much to her great surprise. Then, when the main course arrived, Julie ordered a second glass. Hecate, in a manner of childish competitiveness that she usually reserved for inter-school tournaments, ordered one too. The waiter leant over them and gracefully scooped up their empty cups, skittering away when neither party wanted any pepper.

The conversation lulled, ever so slightly.

“So,” ventured Julie, as carefully as she could while trying not to spill pasta sauce down her front, “This Miss Pentangle-“

“Really?” said Hecate, looking up from her gnocchi and staring in exasperation. “Must you insist on pursuing this ridiculous line of enquiry?”

“No, no of course not,” said Julie, stuffing a forkful of spaghetti in her mouth. Hecate pursed her lips and waited for Julie to finish chewing. “If you really don’t want to tell me,” she continued, swallowing loudly, “That’s absolutely fine. But you know, sometimes an impartial party’s quite nice. And it’s not like we have any mutual friends I could gossip to.”

“No,” replied Hecate, running through the very short list of possibilities, “I suppose we don’t.”

Julie twirled more spaghetti about her fork and nodded ever so slightly, just enough to give Hecate the push she needed.

“I… It was a long time ago,” she began, poking at her food. “We were close in school, and… I felt one way, and she did not.”

“Oh,” said Julie softly, “That’s sad.”

Hecate shrugged, chewing distractedly. Julie shoved more spaghetti into her mouth.

“Well, we tried,” continued Hecate once she’d swallowed. “ _She_ tried. But… I thought she would be better off without me, so I left. Except then we met again last year and she hadn’t been better off. Well, more popular perhaps” – and Julie chuckled at the seriousness of Hecate’s voice – “But not happier.”

“So… You want to be together now?”

“No,” said Hecate, shaking her head, “It wasn’t- No, we don’t want to be together. She really is like that with everyone, and that is just…” Hecate shuddered slightly. “Not what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look,” replied Hecate, stabbing a piece of pasta so hard it fell apart. “We both did a lot of growing, although I’m sure you may find that hard to believe. She learnt she doesn’t want a relationship and I learnt it’s possible to have a friend without falling madly in love with them. Does that answer your question?”

She stuffed the pasta in her mouth like a surly child.

“So, what?” retorted Julie, too quick and too bullish, “Until last year you fell in love with every woman that was nice to you?”

Hecate tried to glare, but her face was so obviously pained that even her angry chewing couldn’t make the situation funny.  

“No, I’m sorry,” said Julie hurriedly, raising one hand in an apologetic gesture, “That was… Sorry, that was uncalled for. I didn’t mean to make fun.”

Hecate sniffed and stared at her plate. Julie watched her carefully, trying desperately to read her expression. The waiter returned and gently placed their wine glasses on the table. They both nodded dumbly when he asked if ‘the food was okay’ and, when he left, they reached for the wine in perfect unison. Hecate downed half the glass before speaking again.

“And what about you?” she asked, placing the cup back on the table. “Surely the great Miss Hubble must have some infamous beaus.”

“Me?” replied Julie, glancing up. “I don’t have any stories half that romantic.”

“Oh?” asked Hecate, staring forcefully at the tablecloth.

“Yeah,” began Julie, resting her elbow on the table and gesturing with her fork. “I’ve never… I’ve never been very good at relationships. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of rough and tumble” – Hecate rolled her eyes – “But it just… Never seemed to last, you know? Either I got bored or they did. My longest relationship was only a year and a bit. And that was over a decade ago... Still,” she said, looking at Hecate brightly, “They say you mature a lot once you’ve had a child. And I certainly _look_ like I’ve matured.”

Julie grinned at her own joke, and even Hecate smiled slightly, chuckling as quietly as possible. She looked up from her food, replying with a surprisingly kind comment about Julie’s appearance. Julie giggled. The great wheel of conversation began to turn once more, and soon they were rumbling along as easily as before. When dessert came, Hecate surprised herself and ordered another glass of wine. She didn’t know if she was desperate to impress or desperate to continue the flow of conversation, but either way Julie didn’t seem to notice. In fact, she ordered a third glass too.

\---

The outside world was cold and unfriendly when they left the restaurant. The rain didn’t fall so much as float lazily towards the ground, mocking gravity in its descent. A few people had their umbrellas up, but most simply turned their collars or walked hastily with hoods hiding their face. In the rosy alcoholic glow, neither Julie nor Hecate cared to bother with those solutions. They walked slowly, teetering occasionally but more or less traversing the pavement in a straight line. At one point they bumped into each other, and Julie cracked a comment about body heat that would have made a sober Hecate blush. (Drunk Hecate blushed too, but her face was already so red it was impossible to tell.)

They meandered leisurely towards the flat, and when Hecate offered to transfer them upstairs Julie gently reminded her of the existence of both security cameras and lifts. They stood needlessly close together, arms touching. Then, when they reached the flat, Hecate paused, waiting as Julie undid the locks. She opened the door and then turned back to Hecate expectantly.

“Would you like to come in?”

Hecate shuffled on the spot.

“I should perhaps clear my head before I transfer.”

“Of course!” said Julie, stepping aside as Hecate tottered into the flat. Julie shut and locked the door, walking briskly past Hecate and into the living area. She dumped her bag on the kitchen table and threw her coat on top of it, before hovering against the kitchen counter. Hecate removed her own coat and carefully placed it on the back of the chair. She sat on the sofa uninvited and leant back, craning her neck to look at the ceiling. It all felt alarmingly ‘right’.

“Miss Hardbroom?” asked Julie, teetering slightly from side to side.

“Mhm?” Hecate looked away from the lamp fixture and blinked at Julie. “Yes?”

“Would you like some hot chocolate?”

Hecate snorted and laughed at the same time. No one had offered her hot chocolate since she was a child.

“You know, Miss Hubble, I rather think I would.”

Julie smiled at the personal victory. She fished two cups off the draining board and began rummaging about for coco powder.

Hecate watched her curiously.

There was something eternally sunny about Julie Hubble. Although they were the same age, Julie’s movements were spright and nimble. The curls of her hair bounced as she flitted between the kitchen cupboards, and despite the distance Hecate could see the rich blue of her eyes twinkle playfully, glistening with vitality. Worst of all, in the light of the bare bulb even Julie’s skin looked like it was glowing, radiating a quiet reassurance and unpretentious joy. It was like some sort of terrible fairy tale; a sun-kissed goddess of spring, her quiet energy breathing life into the skeletal husk of winter. A rapid-cycle of mental images flashed before her, both of herself as a skeletal husk and how Julie Hubble could go about ‘breathing life’.

She swallowed weakly; she never had such moronic thoughts when she was sober. 

“Here we are Miss Hardbroom!”

Julie flounced over to Hecate, setting the cups down on the coffee table. She sat down next to her, keeping an only just acceptable distance. Hecate nodded gratefully and lifted the cup of the table. She held it in her lap, cradling it with her fingers. It did not burn. Julie sipped her own cup gingerly, before using her palm to wipe a line of hot chocolate off her upper lip. A wave of sentimentality began to rise in Hecate’s gut.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “You really are beautiful.”

It was more than a wave.

“Wow,” snorted Julie. “High praise indeed.”

A small typhoon perhaps.

“You’re like… The sun,” continued Hecate dreamily.

Or maybe the feeling was a tsunami.  

“Well,” said Julie, grinning slightly, “I wouldn’t go quite _that_ far.”

Either way, it was about to hit any second.

“I would,” said Hecate, as romanticism crashed its way into her consciousness. “ _Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”_

Julie blinked in surprise.

 _“Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date_.”

 Julie leant back and stared at her.

 “I’m sorry, you what?”

 “ _Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,_ ” continued Hecate, swept up in the force of her desperately romantic spirit. _“And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometimes declines, By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed_.”

“No listen, I am too drunk for this-”

“ _But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair though ow’st_ ,“

“You’re hitting on me, aren’t you?”

“ _Not shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st_.”

“You _are_ hitting on me, right?“

“ _So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee._ ”

Hecate stopped and stared at Julie expectantly.

“He was a wizard you know,” she said, nodding authoritatively. Julie blinked back in disbelief.

“Right.”

There was a pause. Julie stared at her knees, drowning in a sea of second-hand embarrassment; Hecate stared at the wall, swaying slightly. The wave inside her fell dead as fast as it had accumulated. In its place, the consequences of quoting love sonnets to a pupil’s parent were slowly beginning to dawn.

“You know,” said Julie detachedly, “I don’t know anyone who actually _memorised_ Shakespeare.”

Hecate’s brain turned in on itself and she sobered so fast it gave her a headache.

She coughed slightly.

“No,” she replied, sniffing, “I don’t imagine many people do.”

It had felt like a good idea thirty seconds ago.

Julie wasn’t looking at her – instead she stared frowning at the ground, as if she were grippling with an inner confliction.

Well, thought Hecate, it was only a matter of time before you ruined everything.

“I should go,” she said hurriedly, standing up and brushing nothing at all off her dress. She set her cup down and wobbled to the kitchen table to put her coat on. It took her four attempts to get her arm through the sleeve.

“Oh,” said Julie, stumbling back to reality, “Must you go so soon?”

Her voice lilted, crestfallen. Hecate was too preoccupied with her own idiosyncrasies to notice.  

“Sorry, I…” Hecate sighed and her mouth twisted glumly. “I wasn’t thinking.” She shook her head slightly, and with great effort attempted to button her coat.

Were Julie sober the situation may have played out differently.

As it was, a gentle maelstrom was battering furiously against her heart. Her brain knew the whole situation was ridiculous – Miss Hardbroom was Mildred’s teacher. She had made her daughter miserable, if only temporarily. But Hecate’s ardent performance stirred a sentiment in Julie that she hadn’t felt for years. She had been so careful, butchering and burying her longing for companionship in the months after Mildred’s birth. It had been off the cards, off the table, not even in the same room. Everything went out the window when you had a child. She didn’t realise how spectacularly she’d ignored her own loneliness. Until now. Until now, when an awkward teacher with hair like the night sky was reciting Shakespearian love poems in her honour. Comparing her to the sun. Calling her beautiful. It was stupid, and ridiculous, and bumbling and completely over-the-top, but it was all for her. Julie had never felt so wanted. And if she were sober, she would have capitalised on that.

But she was not. All she could do was try desperately to refocus, floundering as Hecate’s self-consciousness slid a knife between her ribs.

“You don’t have to leave.”

“No,” said Hecate, “I think I do.”

“Are you sure?”

Hecate was still too blinded by shame to recognise the opportunity. It sailed past and disappeared over the horizon.

“Yes,” she said, “I rather think I am.”

“Oh.” Julie’s voice had an unfamiliar passivity. “If you say so…”

Hecate swallowed and looked at her sadly. Her earnestness was blistering.  

“I’m sorry,” she said, quietly. “I had a wonderful time.”

Julie nodded. Staring at Miss Hardbroom was like gazing at the stars on a cloudless night. She was as beautiful as she was distant. And why did she have such a pained expression on her face? Why did her eyes, always expressive but rarely sincere, suddenly look like pools of fucking honey? God, Julie wanted to slap herself for being so maudlin.

Hecate saw the look on Julie’s face, speculative and angry. The remains of her confidence dissipated.

“Goodbye, Miss Hubble.”

And she left before Julie could say another word.


	6. Chapter 6

­Christmas came and went. Julie spent some of the holiday with family, some of it feeling sorry for herself, and most of it at work. Everyone had noticed the change in her behaviour, especially at the hospital, where she’d tried desperately to stay in ‘cheery-nurse’ mode despite the holiday crush. To her relief most people took her at face value when she explained she was merely tired, and only Mo seemed seriously concerned. Julie had plied her with jobs for the New Year’s Eve party, but she knew she could not escape her sister’s nosiness forever.

Mo’s role in organising the party could not be underestimated. While Christmas itself had been a comparably muted affair, each New Year’s Eve Julie religiously threw a house party, inviting as many neighbours and friends as could squeeze into the small apartment. Given that Mo’s social circle was decidedly larger than either Julie’s or their mother’s, and that most of the booze came from Mo, her involvement was sacrosanct.

On New Year’s Eve proper nearly all the guests stayed until midnight, and even Mildred stayed up to watch the fireworks, allowed half a glass of wine as an ad hoc reward for her grades going up. After the countdown attendees began to peter out, and by two in the morning the Hubble family settled down to sleep. Bottles, cups and trays of half-eaten food were strewn across the flat, but neither Julie nor her mother (unbelievably the tidiest members of the family) could bring themselves to clean up. Besides, only Mo and Julie were sleeping among the mess. Julie had forsaken her bed so Mildred’s Gran could sleep without knocking her back out and was consequently bundled in a sleeping-bag on the floor; Mo was huddled comfortably on the sofa, her tiny frame rendering her comparative comfort. Only Mildred was in her own bed.

Light from the street lamps flooded through the curtain, barely thick enough to hide the shape of the balcony, and the city’s streets echoed as stampedes of people herded onto public transport for the journey home. It was in this half-quiet, half-dark that Mo began talking – she was the only person Julie had told about the ‘date’.

“I’m glad Millie’s grades are going up,” she said, voice drifting down from the sofa, “You must be really proud.”

“Yeah, well,” said Julie, rolling over, “I think I’ve mucked that one up, so I thought I should let her enjoy it while she can.”

“Oh?”

Mo’s big-sister intuition kicked into gear.

“Your date with the teacher not go so well?”

“I don’t know,” said Julie, bunching the sleeping-bag over her head.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?”

“I _mean_ , she quoted Shakespeare at me then ran off.”

“Jesus,” said Mo, as unflatteringly as humanly possible, “What a weirdo. You sure you like this one?”

“Shut up, Mo.”

Julie huffed loudly and wriggling in her sleeping bag once more. From the sofa, Mo sighed slightly.

“Sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“I just,” continued Mo dispassionately, “How can you ‘not know’? She was quoting love poems at you, that’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah,” snapped Julie, “And then she _ran_ _off_. ‘Oh, hi Julie,’” she began, dropping her voice and sounding like an unconvincing teenage boy. “’I think you’re really pretty but also don’t wanna be around you.’ What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

“Alright,” hissed Mo, “Keep your voice down or you’ll wake Millie up.”

Julie huffed again. 

“Maybe she just got intimidated? You know Mum always said people were intimidated by us.”

“Wow that’s really reassuring, thanks so much.”

Mo sighed dramatically, as confused as she was annoyed by her younger sister’s whims.

“Jules, do you actually like her?”

There was a silence.

“What do you mean?” asked Julie, voice softer than it had been at any point in the conversation prior.

“I mean you can’t just give up after one stupid _thing._ Do you remember how many stupid things Dave did when you first got together?”

“Yeah,” said Julie, rolling her eyes, “Loads.”

“Exactly. And _I_ like this one. I know she’s weird but… She’s smart and educated and from what you’ve told me very financially stable, so I don’t know what your problem is.”

“The problem is,” began Julie, before her voice trailed off lamely, “The problem is A, she’s Mildred’s teacher and B, I couldn’t contact her if I wanted to.”

“You know how to use the mirror.”

“Yeah but that’s…”

“And you’ve slept with one of Millie’s teacher’s before.”

“Can you shut up? For once, can you just not talk?”

There was a rustling of fabric as Mo shrugged and rolled over to face the back of the sofa.

“All I’m saying,” she continued, voice muffled, “Is that we’ve already established Miss Hardbroom likes you, and from your tetchiness I know that you like her. So I don’t understand why you can’t get your head out your ass and do something about it. I am _not_ letting my little sister turn into an old spinster just because some sad goth doesn’t know how to flirt.”

Julie threw a pillow at her sister’s head; Mo didn’t even react.

“Don’t hate me because you know it’s true,” she sang.

“I’m going to sleep now,” snapped Julie, turning away from her.

“You do that, and tomorrow you’re gonna call your goth and sort this out, okay?”

“She is not _my_ goth!”

“Mhm, if you say so. Anyway,” continued Mo, before Julie had a chance to respond, “I thought you were going to sleep now?”

“I hate you.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” hummed Mo happily.

\---

Hecate fidgeted nervously as the students lined up outside the castle. She was feeling particularly tetchy after such a lacklustre Winter Holiday, and even Ada was surprised at her snappiness. She had reduced one student to tears before registration even started, and Dimity had had to swoop in to save the poor thing. After that, Dimity had marched the first years off as swiftly as she could, taking a cack-handed registration before sending them up to their respective rooms. Algernon had taken the fourth years and Ada the fifth. Gwen was still at the beginning of the third-year line, somehow muddling up two sheets of paper and almost tripping over her own robe. Hecate rolled her eyes and magicked a quill into her hand. She began walking down the row of second-years, ticking off names as she went.

All was going smoothly until she hit the letter ‘H’.

“Ethel Hallow?”

“Here, Miss Hardbroom.”

“Mildred Hubble?”

Silence.

“ _Mildred Hubble?”_

Hecate looked over her clipboard and stared at the empty spot in the line.

“She’s not here, Miss Hardbroom.”

“Yes, thank you Ethel, I can see that.”

Ethel sniffed and looked towards the front of the line. Hecate pursed her lips.

“Has anyone seen Mildred?” she demanded, voice so loud several students jumped.

There was an indistinct muttering - no one looked in her direction. Hecate sighed and strode towards the middle of the line, just as Ada dismissed the fifth years. Maud and Enid exchanged a nervous glance.

“Maud Moonshine and Enid Nightshade,” said Hecate, voice threateningly low. “I don’t suppose you care to enlighten me?”

Maud gulped loudly.

“We don’t know anything, Miss Hardbroom,” said Enid, completely unabashed. Maud shook her head vigorously. 

“Is that so? Then I suppose you will have no-“

“Is everything alright!?”

Ada came strolling down the line like a particularly enthusiastic lap-cat. Gwen yelled something indistinct and the third-years scattered, leaving only Hecate, Ada, and the thin line of second year students shivering on the playing fields.  

“Just perfect,” said Hecate, voice strained as Ada ambled up to her.

“Mildred’s gone missing!” exclaimed Maud suddenly. Hecate rolled her eyes.

“Mildred is _late_ ,” she drawled, “That is hardly cause for panic.”

“Oh my,” said Ada, “That isn’t like Mildred.”

Hecate squinted at her in absolute confusion.

“That is _exactly_ like Mildred.”

“Well,” Ada cocked her head, “Perhaps. Still, that’s no reason to keep everyone out in the cold.” She plucked the clipboard out of Hecate’s hand before she had a chance to object. “Hecate, why don’t I finish registering the second-years, and you keep an eye-out in case Mildred arrives?”

“Headmistress, I hardly think-“

“Now, now, we don’t want to keep the girls out in the cold, do we?”

Hecate’s lip twitched.

“No, of course not.” She cleared her throat. “Very well, girls,” she yelled, “Miss Cackle shall finish taking the register, I will… Wait at the front of the line.”

“Thank you, Hecate.”

Hecate glowered but did as she was told. Ada marched down the line authoritatively, ticking off names with brutal efficiency. Hecate hovered awkwardly at the front of the queue, glaring at anyone unfortunate enough to look her in the eyes. After mere minutes Ada was finished, and she summarily dismissed the girls to their dorm rooms. She nodded briefly at Hecate before disappearing herself. The playing field was empty in seconds. Hecate sighed and magicked herself an umbrella – it had started to rain.

Christmas had been uneventful; so had New Year’s. She’d spent nearly the entire time at Cackle’s, her remaining family members leaving brief messages on the mirror, but nothing more. Of course, her and Ada had traded presents and spent much time together, but Hecate was still too embarrassed to talk to anyone about the ‘incident’ with Julie Hubble. Even Pippa couldn’t help - they met briefly for lunch one afternoon, but Pippa’s ongoing interest with ‘modern witchcraft’ had occupied so much of the conversation Hecate wasn’t able to get a word in edgeways. The last few days she’d been desperate for the new term to begin, if only to have something to do. And now, because of Mildred Hubble and her inability to understand the linear passage of time, she was alone, in the cold, huddled under an umbrella that in hindsight was really far too small. 

Not that her predicament was undeserved. Hecate’s brain had helpfully replayed her Shakespearean antics on a continuous loop since she’d woken up the following morning, over three weeks ago. No amount of paperwork or planning or start-of-term madness had been able to wipe clean memories of her mortifying theatrics, nor of her equally mortifying exit. She’d thrown Julie’s kindness in her face, drunk far too much, dived headlong into what could only be described as a lesser form of sexual harassment, before vanishing without any explanation whatsoever. She absolutely deserved to be alone in the rain.

She sighed and began pacing on the grass. There was no knowing how late Mildred would be, if she turned up at all. Perhaps Julie had decided to pull from the school last minute. Hecate wouldn’t blame her. A mental image loomed ominously in the back of her mind; Julie recounting her misdemeanours to Mildred, the Hubble family sitting around a table gossiping and laughing at her. If Mildred knew about any of this then it really was all over. She grit her teeth and tried to think about something else.

A small speck appeared on the horizon. It was hurtling towards Cackle’s academy at breakneck speed, aimed vaguely downwards but travelling so fast the trajectory was decidedly uncertain. Hecate squinted at it. The sound of indiscriminate shouting wafted through the airwaves. She sighed and banished her umbrella. Hecate held her arms out, palms facing the sky, waiting for the inevitable crash landing.

Her fears, for the most part, were unfounded.

Mildred hit the ground running, holding onto her broom, Tabby yowling in distress from her backpack. She sprinted towards Hecate, unable to fight the decidedly non-magical momentum that was now dragging her forward. All Hecate had to do was step out the landing path and wait for her to topple over. Mildred fell face first not ten paces later. She scrambled to her knees and let Tabby out of the bag. Free from his polyester constraints, Tabby leapt out the backpack and raced headlong for the castle, with no care for where he ended up in particular. Hecate watched him go, before sauntering towards Mildred, lips pursed.

“I am delighted you deign to grace us with your presence, Mildred.”

“Well met, Miss Hardbroom,” said Mildred hurriedly, rushing to her feet and smacking herself in the forehead.

“And how, pray tell, do you intend to explain your lateness today?”

“Uh- It was my Mum, Miss Hardbroom, she-“ Mildred crouched down and began rummaging in her backpack. “She was writing a letter and-“

“I fail to see what your mother’s letter has to do with anything.”

“No, well-“ Mildred peered into her backpack in exasperation. “It was a letter for you but she wouldn’t tell me what was in it and- Ah, here it is!”

She fished a small creased envelope from her bag and held it out. Hecate stared at it as if she were looking at a death threat. It was probably another letter of complaint. Or an accusation of harassment. The downfall of her entire career was probably in that letter.

Mildred frowned as the colour drained from Miss Hardbroom’s face.

“Are you alright?”

“Get to your room,” hissed Hecate, snatching the letter out her hand so fast that Mildred recoiled in shock. She slung the backpack over one shoulder and ran off in the direction of the castle.

Hecate crumpled the envelope in her hand, cursing to herself as she watched Mildred leave. Then, when the teenager was out of sight, she transferred to the staff room and shoved the letter in her pigeonhole, where it remained, tattered and forlorn, until the end of the day.

\---

“What was in that letter Mils?”

“I don’t know,” said Mildred glumly, as Miss Tapioca heaped lunchtime mash potato onto her tray. “I didn’t think it would be that important, but Mum got really stressed about it.”

“And that made you late,” said Maud summarily.

Mildred sighed and nodded.

The trio plodded slowly over to their regular spot and sat down. Mildred looked warily at the teacher’s table.

“It really freaked HB out though.”

“Really?” Enid asked, eyes gleaming.

“Yeah she looked… I don’t know how she looked, but she wasn’t happy.”

“Because you were late,” reiterated Maud.

“No,” said Mildred, “Because of the letter.”

“She was probably _begging_ Miss Hardbroom to let you stay,” drawled Ethel, walking up to them with an empty tray. “We still all remember what you did on Halloween.”

“Actually, Ethel, I saved the school on Halloween _and_ my grades have been going up since then. If anyone should be embarrassed about Halloween, it’s _you_.”

“Yeah, Ethel,” snapped Enid, bobbing her head slightly.

Ethel snorted.

“Well, in that case it must be a letter of bribery. How else would _your_ grades improve?” Ethel rolled her eyes and scoffed. “I bet it started right after Halloween. _That’s_ why HB’s been acting weird, and that’s why your grades have gone up. You’re only here because your mother’s bribing the teachers.”

“Ethel,” said Enid, in a cautionary tone, “If you say anything else, we’ll turn you into a toad. Won’t we Maud?”

“Yeah,” said Maud, nodding. “And as Head of Year I can do that.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” continued Enid, standing up, “She can.”

Ethel rolled her eyes and flounced away. Enid sat back down and looked at Mildred searchingly.

“You alright?”

Mildred was looking into her food, frowning slightly.

“Don’t listen to her,” said Maud, patting the top of Mildred’s hand, “You know what she’s like.”

“Perhaps… But maybe she has a point.”

“Don’t be stupid Millie, Ethel’s just trying to-”

“No, but don’t you see? That’s the reason Mum keeps asking about my potion classes, that’s the reason HB’s started acting nice, _that’s_ why my grades are going up.”

“No,” said Maud, shaking her head, “Ethel’s just trying to get to you.”

“And besides,” said Enid, a little too honestly, “What could your Mum even bribe HB with? It’s not like she can make a bunch of ‘charitable donations.’”

“No,” said Mildred slowly, “That’s true…”

A hundred tiny cogs turned in their teenage brains, and they arrived at the same conclusion in unison, gasping simultaneously.

“You don’t think your Mum and HB might be- “

“Oh bats, Mildred if your Mum- “

“No,” said Mildred, trying to convince herself, “That wouldn’t- I mean…”

“They _have_ been hanging out though,” said Enid, accusatorily.

“And you _did_ think something was strange between them,” continued Maud, raising her eyebrows.

“Well, yeah,” said Mildred, weakly, “But…”

Mildred pushed her tray away and buried her face in her arms. In the back of her head she knew there was credibility to the suggestion; knew new the Mum-HB tag team was a little too effective for her liking. But it was a new term and things had finally been improving. No more trouble, no more harassment, and no more investigating. She sighed heavily and looked up, chin resting on the table.

“Mum wouldn’t do that. And it would be weird. Too weird. Too weird to think about.”

Maud nodded, eyes wide.

“And you know, even if something is happening, maybe they’re just friends, right?”

Enid swallowed and nodded. Mildred sat up and inhaled deeply - the thought of Miss Hardbroom and her mother was too much to contemplate.

“Look,” she said, steeling herself, “I’ve been doing well for once. _I_ know I’m good enough, and _I_ know my Mum wouldn’t do something like that. And if Ethel wants to act like that then _fine._ I don’t care. And if you’re my friends, then you won’t care either.”

Maud and Enid exchanged a cautious glance.

“You know,” said Maud thoughtfully, “That’s really mature of you.”

\---

“What have you got there?” asked Ada, closing the staffroom door.

Hecate flattened the letter against her chest.

“Nothing.”

The first day of term had gone as smoothly as viably possible; a handful of missing cats, some spontaneous combustion in the kitchen, and several girls who had forgotten to pack anything remotely appropriate for winter, but nothing the teachers were incapable of handling. The pupils were in bed, and although Ada was on night duty, she would occasionally pop her head in the staffroom, if only to make sure everything was still in one piece. Dimity stood by the pigeonholes, holding a small bundle of post in her hand; Gwen was sitting at the desk, a near complete stack of marking to one side; Algernon was sat by the fire, prodding it occasionally with the poker. Hecate sat on her own in one of the armchairs, a small pile of opened letters in her lap.

“Oh, go on,” said Dimity, walking over to Hecate’s chair. “You’ve been staring at the same page since I arrived.”

“She’s been looking at it longer than that,” scoffed Algernon. “In fact, she hasn’t looked at anything else since she opened it.”

“You know,” said Gwen, looking up from her marking. “I didn’t notice that. She hasn’t, has she?”

“Mh-hm,” hummed Algernon, with a nod of his head.

“Come now, Hecate,” said Ada, sitting down in the chair opposite. “There are no secrets in this staffroom.”

Hecate didn’t say anything. The blush did not creep up her neck so much as explode spontaneously across the middle of her face. Ada titled her head, expectantly.

“I bet it’s a love letter,” said Algernon.

“Merlin’s sake,” replied Gwen, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Algernon.”

Algernon shrugged.

“I don’t know anything else that could get HB so flustered.”

Hecate glared at him. But then all eyes rounded on her and she tittered nervously.

“Well,” she began, stiffly, “I wouldn’t quite say-“

“Oh my stars,” said Dimity, grinning manically, “It is, isn’t it?”

“Told you.”

“Nooo,” said Gwen, dragging the single syllable as far as it could go. “That can’t be...”

“My, Hecate,” said Ada with a hint of pride, “You certainly kept that one under wraps.”

“Well,” attempted Hecate, voice rising an octave, “I think if you listen to what I am saying-“

Ada’s expression changed suddenly.

“Is this to do with your date with-?“

“Would you look at the time!”

Hecate stood up abruptly, pushing the chair back loudly.

“So sorry,” she squeaked. “Very busy, must get going.”

And then she vanished.

Dimity bent double, cackling loudly.

“It really was a love letter, wasn’t it!?”

“I don’t believe it,” said Gwen, voice high, “I simply don’t believe it. Algernon, could you read it from there?”

“Not at all - call it a frog’s intuition.”

Gwen rolled her eyes.

“Do you know who it’s from?” asked Dimity, sitting in Hecate’s now vacant chair.

They all stared at Ada. Ada pursed her lips.

“I’m not quite sure it’s my place to say. And besides, it’s only a guess.”

“Whatever happened to ‘no secrets in this staff room’?”

Gwen and Algernon muttered in agreement. Ada hummed thoughtfully.

“Headteacher’s prerogative.”

Dimity rolled her eyes, but smiled playfully.

“Well guys,” she said to Algernon and Gwen, “Looks like us boring pencil pushers will have to wait for the news to break properly.”

“What makes you certain it will break at all?” asked Ada, with a faint hint of concern.

“Please,” replied Dimity matter-of-factly. She stood up walked towards the door. “This is _Cackle’s_. The building’s practically made of gossip.”

\---

_My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;_

_Coral is far more red than her lips' red;_

_If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;_

_If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head._

_I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,_

_But no such roses see I in her cheeks;_

_And in some perfumes is there more delight_

_Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks._

_I love to hear her speak, yet well I know_

_That music hath a far more pleasing sound;_

_I grant I never saw a goddess go;_

_My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:_

_And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare_

_As any she belied with false compare._

_Next Tuesday, 9.30pm. My place._

\---

She had waited five days for a reply. In truth Julie was grateful to have received anything at all - she didn’t know how kindly Miss Hardbroom would take to her using Mildred as a courier. She had only decided to send the letter at the last minute, cramming it into Mildred’s bag in an act of barefaced desperation. Even her handwriting had been sloppy.

But still, Miss Hardbroom’s response was disappointingly underwhelming.

_I have received your letter. I will be there._

_HB_

The tall flowing hand betrayed no sign of affection, no subtlety, nothing. If Julie didn’t know the context it could have easily been mistake for a death threat. What little amusement she gleaned from the signature – the detested nickname ‘HB’ – was wiped away by her disappointment at such an uninspired response. She did not expect an impassioned declaration of love, but the complete absence of tenderness gnawed at her. Maybe it really had just been a drunken mistake, a pitiful clash of mutual loneliness and zombified sentimentality, clawing its way out of the depths.

But at least Hardbroom had said something, even if it was on a post-it note. And she’d stayed out of  the flat, a courtesy Julie knew she would not have been granted three months prior. Julie knew full well that Hardbroom could materialise in her living room whenever she felt like it; knew full well that if she chose to, she could pluck Julie out of thin air and transport her God knows where. But she never did – she waited unnervingly on the balcony, stood like an awkward teenager outside the front door, but never barged in and demand Julie drop everything.

Julie clung to that, even when her sentimentality crept onto the ward. A husband and wife had come in, both with a mixture of minor ailments, and their unwavering dedication to each other had sent Julie’s head spinning. One had adult children, the other was divorced. They’d only met in their fifties. Now aged seventy and seventy-four they were still as thick as thieves, hurling gentle taunts and calling each other all sorts of sarcastic names in a way that made their devotion clear as day. They held hands for the entirety of the appointment. Julie’s eyes had started to water while she was taking their blood pressure.

That was on Monday. She had gone back to work on Tuesday as if it had never happened, and even though everyone could tell she was not alright, she kept it as close to her chest as possible. She ate her packed lunch on the roof despite the bitter cold, and hastily avoided colleagues as far as civility would allow. The traffic dragged on the way home and she didn’t reach the flat until quarter to ten.

Hecate was waiting for her. She wore her hair down but was otherwise still dressed for the classroom, and waved pathetically as Julie strode up the corridor. Julie steeled herself as she approached.

“Sorry,” she said, pushing past Hecate and fiddling with the locks, “Traffic.”

Hecate nodded dumbly and Julie shoved the door open, stepping inside without looking back. Hecate all but tiptoed down the corridor, and Julie shut the door behind them before barging down behind her. She dumped her coat unceremoniously on the kitchen table, and turned to face Hecate, who was standing mute in the middle of the room.

“You got my letter then.”

Hecate nodded.

“And you received mine?”

Julie nodded.

There was neither fireplace nor ticking clock to fill the silence. The kitchen table sat between them, heaped with Julie’s clothes, the laptop, and an assortment of nondescript _stuff._ Hecate eyed the pile warily. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her companion; Julie couldn’t bring herself to look at anything but.

“What are we doing?” asked Julie, suddenly, earnestly. “In your room and at Christmas and… What is… _This_?” There was no harshness to her tone, but a defensive matter-of-factness that filled Hecate with doubt.

“I…” Hecate started, eyes widening in dismay. “I need to apologise to you Miss Hubble, my behaviour at Christmas was-”

“I’m not angry at you, Miss Hardbroom,” interrupted Julie. Her voice was steady and deliberate. “I’m really not.”

Hecate’s eyebrows twisted in the same tiny knots they had done whenever Julie was nice to her, and Julie smiled sadly, recognising the uncertainty. Hecate still could not bring herself to match Julie’s gaze.

“Then I think, Miss Hubble, you are showing me more kindness than I deserve.”

“Probably.”

Hecate exhaled nervously, but finally tore her eyes away from the table and stepped round its edge, moving fractionally closer to Julie. They exchanged a cheerless smile.

“I can only apologise,” she began, voice quiet, “For all the confusion I must have caused you. And Mildred. I did not intend to wade into your life quite so… Forcefully.”

Julie sighed, and when she spoke her voice was sad rather than angry.

“Well,” she said, “It’s a bit late for that now.”

“Yes,” whispered Hecate, “I suppose you’re right...”

Julie’s tone shifted suddenly, gaining an assertiveness Hecate was not expecting. She marched round the table and met Hecate in the middle, staring up at her. Hecate took a small step back.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“I’m sorry?” replied Hecate, blinking in confusion.

“Before Christmas, when you said… What you said.”

Hecate swallowed. Ah, _that_.

“I… I have no intention of repeating my behaviour, I am aware-“

“Because I meant what I put in the letter,” said Julie, interrupting once more. “It wasn’t a joke.”

Hecate tried to say ‘oh’, but instead gave a small cheep that made her sound like a monosyllabic budgie. Julie chuckled slightly, sagging with relief.

“Did you really?” whispered Hecate.

“Uh-huh.”

“So, you… We…”

Julie nodded, as Hecate struggled to find the words.

“You want that?” she asked, riddled with disbelief.

“If… If you do too.” Julie looked away and shuffled back slightly, swinging her arms by her side. “I understand if… If you feel it’s inappropriate. And I don’t want to make your life harder. I really don’t. But the thing is Miss Hardbroom, I haven’t felt this way since-“

“Hecate.”

Julie froze.

“I’m sorry?”

Hecate had spoken so resolutely she surprised herself. She breathed in deeply, and when she spoke again her voice was steady, each word pronounced with care.

“As in, ‘Hello, my name is Hecate, and I think you’re quite wonderful.’”

A slow smile spread across Julie’s face. Hecate smiled back, shyly.

“Hello Hecate,” she said softly, “I’m Julie, I think you’re quite wonderful too.”

Hecate chuckled breathily and leant against the kitchen table. Julie shuffled towards her again; this time she did not back away.

“You okay?” asked Julie, voice gentle and unpretentious.

“Yes,” said Hecate quietly, nervousness creeping its way back into her bloodstream.

Her eyebrows twisted and she looked at Julie, smiling almost sadly. Julie swallowed.

“Can I kiss you?”

Hecate stared at her in shock.

“Only if you want to,” added Julie hastily. “We don’t… Only if you want to.”

For a time, Hecate made no reply. A million memories raced through her brain; a million fuckups and misdemeanours, a million mistakes and disappointments. Julie watched her uncertainty and went to pull away; in that same instant Hecate knew she would not add this to her pile of failures. She took a deep breath and caught Julie by the hand, stepping towards her in the process. For a moment she moved no further, bravery spent as soon as it appeared - their faces were only inches apart.

Then Julie smiled and Hecate felt the world move.

Courage swelled in her chest and she raised her free arm, carefully resting her palm on Julie’s cheek. Julie closed her eyes and sighed into Hecate’s hand, pushing against it as if she hadn’t felt another human for years. Hecate watched her, transfixed.

“I want to,” she whispered.

And they did.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Julie yawned lazily and rolled over on the pillow. She wrapped one arm around Hecate’s waist and buried her face into her partner’s pyjamas. Hecate, sat propped up against the headboard, sighed and put Julie’s yoga magazine back on the night stand.

“Good morning,” she droned, pulling her plait out of Julie’s reach.

“Morning,” snuffled Julie, wiping her face against Hecate’s nightgown.

They had settled into a comfortable pattern since the New Year began. Given how hectic their lives were the word ‘routine’ was far too generous, but they had nevertheless seen each other every week since the new term began. Usually Hecate would meet Julie after work, or even appear during one of Julie’s lunch breaks to steal a kiss and a sparring match, but there was no set timing and certainly no sense of structure. Still, they were nevertheless a semi-regular feature in each other’s lives, and that was more than either could have hoped for at the beginning of the year.

This particular morning Hecate had stayed at Julie’s overnight, bathing in the only somewhat soothing knowledge that Dimity had taken the second years for a sports tournament against some French school. It was the first morning they’d had together since Mildred broke her arm.

Julie rolled over, releasing Hecate from her grasp and looking at the ceiling. Pale white light strained through the thin curtains, bringing with it the promise of another grey April day. Julie sighed out loud, then shuffled in the duvet until she was sitting up against the headboard.

“What do you think?” she asked, noncommittally.

“About what?”

“The magazine.”

“ _Oh._ ” Hecate shrugged. _“_ Pure trite.”

Julie snorted and her mouth twisted into a lopsided smile.

“Of course, lover.”

Hecate rolled her eyes as Julie leant across and gave her a kiss on the cheek; Julie chuckled and huddled up against her. Hecate almost rolled her eyes again at Julie’s puppy-like clinginess, but instead she reached down and laced the fingers of one hand through Julie’s own. Their hands rested on top of the duvet cover, and for a moment they did nothing at all.

Then Julie shifted suddenly. She turned and leant her forehead against Hecate’s shoulder, giving an overdramatic huff. Hecate glanced down at her.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, voice rich with concern.

“We need to tell her,” said Julie, voice once more muffled by fabric. “She needs to know before Easter.”

Hecate pursed her lips.

Last half-term when the pupils had left Cackle’s, the couple hadn’t been able to see each other at all. Mildred had come home and neither Hecate nor Julie were prepared to force their relationship on the teen, especially given at that point they’d only been ‘together’ a month and a half. But the Spring Holidays were just around the corner, and after four months, keeping Mildred in the dark for no reason other than their own embarrassment was beginning to feel more than a little gutless. Hecate exhaled heavily.

“I know,” said Julie, reading her thoughts, “I don’t want to either.”

Julie sighed again and sat back, leaning on the headboard. She did not let go of Hecate’s hand.

“But it’s not fair otherwise,” she continued, “You’ve already told me what they’re saying at school.”

“Trust me,” drawled Hecate, “I would not take staff room gossip with an ounce of significance. And besides,” she continued, smirking slightly. “We’re old news now.”

“Oh charming,” snorted Julie. “But what about the nonsense with Ethel just before half-term, hm? Clearly we’re not ‘old news’ to everyone.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake Julie, Ethel Hallow is her own problem. And please believe me when I say that she will _not_ be bringing it up again.” There was an uncomfortable silence. “I just don’t see why Mildred has to be involved,” continued Hecate, “At least not… This early.”

Julie huffed and let go of Hecate’s hand. She shuffled away slightly and stuck an accusatory finger in Hecate’s direction.

“Look, it is important to _me_ that Mildred knows, okay? And while I’m sure you like to think you have everything constantly under control-“

“I did not say that.”

“-That does not mean you understand how these sorts of rumours affect Mildred. She was really distressed after Ethel had a go at her.”

“Which was rich, considering Ethel’s behaviour.”

“Hecate can you stop taking digs at thirteen-year olds for two seconds?”

Julie exhaled hard and crossed her arms. She leant against the headboard and glared across the room, lip curled in disgust. Hecate rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Fine,” she said curtly, “Fine. We shall tell Mildred. How and when and where I leave up to you.”

Julie’s face softened.

“Are you sure?”

“Do I have a choice?” asked Hecate, staring at Julie pointedly.

Julie started smiling.

“No,” she said plainly, “No, you don’t.”

 “Well, there we are then.”

\---

Hecate hated the end of term. There was so much chaos, so much disorder, and so much sanctioned rowdiness it did her head in. Dimity and Gwen were, of course, delighted to permit end-of-term pranks, and Ada, with her typical gushiness, went along with any nonsense dished out to her. That left Algernon, who didn’t care, Miss Tapioca, who cared but could do nothing, and Hecate, who cared deeply and did everything in her power to quash the revelry. That did not make the last day of spring term any easier. The girls had fidgeted in potion’s class, fidgeted in their homeroom, and fidgeted in assembly, before flying off and fidgeting on the way home. It was utterly lawless.

And Hecate knew it would only get worse from there. She had excused herself from the end of term teacher’s party, transferring herself quietly onto Julie’s balcony and standing outside like an angry housecat until Julie let her in. They had gone over their game plan at least four times and counted down the minutes until Mildred’s probable arrival home. It took a full thirty minutes to fly from Cackle’s to the Hubbles’ apartment, which had given Julie and Hecate more than enough time to stress, panic, and shout at each other. Eventually they decided, as they had decided a week ago, to let Julie take the lead. Hecate sat perched anxiously on the sofa, and Julie hovered against the kitchen counter, waiting for Mildred to crash on the balcony.

In fact, her arrival was surprisingly peaceful. She glided calmly onto the terrace, and knocked excitedly on the glass. Julie opened it, throwing her arms around Mildred tightly.

“Millie! Oh, I’m so glad you’re home! How was the flight?”

“Fine thanks Mum!”

Julie let go and ushered Mildred into the apartment.

“In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever had a smoother flight.”

She crouched down and let Tabby out of the bag. He ran straight for the litterbox in the kitchen.

“That’s good!” said Julie, ignoring the travel-sick cat.

“Yeah, I think all that practice is really-“

Mildred stopped in the middle of the living room and raised an accusatory finger.

“What’s _she_ doing here?”

Hecate shuffled on the sofa and tried to smile.

“Hello, Mildred.”

Mildred turned back to Julie and stared at her.

“Mum, what is going on?”

Julie sat down on the sofa and bunched up next to Hecate, leaving enough space for the scrawny thirteen-year-old. She patted the sofa and Mildred tentatively sat next to her. Julie Hubble nestled down between her brunettes.

“The thing is, Mils, me and Miss Hardbroom have something we need to tell you.”

“Have you been bribing her?”

Hecate and Julie frowned. They exchanged a nervous glance before looking back at Mildred.

“For my grades,” sighed Mildred, exasperated at having to explain herself. “My grades going up and Miss Hardbroom being less… Miss Hardbroom-ish. Sorry,” she added, looking into her shoes.

Hecate sighed.

“Mildred,” she began, leaning over Julie’s lap, “I need you to listen to me very carefully. Look at me Mildred.”

Mildred sniffed and glanced sidelong at her teacher.

“ _You_ are the only reason your grades have improved, understand? You have shown great… Gumption, this year. Do not do yourself a discredit.”

Mildred nodded slightly but did not look at her. Hecate sighed and leant back in the seat; Julie patted her on the knee.

“That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here,” sniffed Mildred.

“Well,” said Julie, taking her hand off Hecate’s leg. “That’s what we wanted to explain.”

She looked at Hecate warily.

“Tell her,” said Hecate, nodding slightly.

Julie took a deep breath and began to speak.

“You see, I had to stay at Cackle’s on Halloween, there wasn’t enough magic for them to send me home. And I ended up sleeping in Miss Hardbroom’s bedroom, which was-”

“You _slept_ with HB!?”

“Not in the same bed,” said Hecate, very very quickly.

“No,” continued Julie, swallowing dryly, “Not in the same bed. Anyway, that would have been that, but then when you told me all the things Miss Hardbroom was doing, and saying, I couldn’t just sit by and let her behave that way. So, I wrote to Miss Cackle, and told her what I thought. And we had… A conversation.”

Mildred’s eyes widened.

“Mum, did you try to get Miss Hardbroom _fired_?”

Julie said ‘no’ the exact moment Hecate said ‘yes’. They cleared their throats in unison and ignored each other.

Mildred almost smiled.

“Anyway,” continued Julie, “Miss Hardbroom said she would change, and she did. And then she chaperoned me at the Spelling Bee, and then you fell and we had to help you, and then I thought…”

“And then you realised you actually _like_ each other?”

“Well, not right away,” said Julie hastily.

“No,” drawled Hecate, “Certainly not right away.”

Mildred puffed out her cheeks and exhaled, frowning slightly. They watched her nervously.

“But,” she began, “You two _are_ friends now?”

Hecate and Julie exchanged a glance, before smiling slightly and nodding at Mildred. Mildred ‘hmm-ed’ thoughtfully.

“I thought so. Does this mean Miss Hardbroom has hung out here before? And… She’s going to do it again?”

“The correct term is ‘hanged’,” said Hecate stiffly, “And that is a ghastly image, Mildred.”

“No, no, love,” said Julie to Hecate, barely controlling her mirth, “That’s not what she means. And yes, Millie, I’m afraid it does. Is that okay with you?”

“Well,” said Mildred, with a biting sarcasm characteristic of her mother, “It’s going to have to be, isn’t it?”

“Mildred!” snapped Hecate, glaring at her.

Mildred scowled at her and Hecate softened.

“That… Is part of the reason we wish to talk to you. I know that this is your home, and that I am probably the last person you want to see here.”

“Not a word,” said Julie, staring at Mildred authoritatively.

“But the thing is,” continued Hecate, looking cautiously between the two Hubbles, “Me and your mother really are rather good friends, although you may find it hard to believe.”

“And?” snapped Mildred.

“And,” interrupted Julie in an excessively good-natured tone. “We were wondering if it would be okay for Miss Hardbroom to come and spend some time with us, over the holidays? Or even just with me. You can go to Mo’s or your Gran’s or wherever you’d like. But I would really appreciate it if she could come to the flat sometimes, and I wouldn’t want you to have any nasty surprises.”

Mildred furrowed her brow and stared at the coffee table.

“I mean,” she began, huffing loudly, “I _suppose_ I don’t mind. But would I still have to call you Miss Hardbroom?”

She glared at Hecate, who was leaning against Julie in mutual relief. Hecate jumped slightly when she noticed Mildred staring and cleared her throat.

“When we are not at school, Mildred, you may call me whatever you like. Within reason.”

“Within reason,” repeated Julie.

Mildred sighed. She squinted slightly, brows furrowed in thought.

“Can I call you HB?” she asked, twisting in her seat and looking at Hecate matter-of-factly.

Hecate tucked her chin back.

“If you must.”

“And you’re not going to be here every day,” said Mildred. She turned her attention to Julie before Hecate had a chance to reply. “Is she Mum?”

“No, of course not! We’re both far too busy for that. And I promise I will always tell you when HB’s is going to visit.”

“And I promise I shan’t ‘jump out and scare you’,” added Hecate, helpfully. “At least not in your own home.”

“Hm.”

Mildred crossed her arms and leant back into the sofa. Julie reached over and wrapped one arm around her daughter’s shoulder, kissing her on the head.

“I know this is strange, Millie.”

Mildred sighed.

“I’m gonna go unpack my things,” she declared, standing up and grabbing her bag. She strode across the room, stopping just before she reached the corridor. She turned and faced them.

“Is HB staying for tea?”

Julie smirked.

“I don’t know, would you like to stay for tea, _HB_?”

Hecate muttered something under her breath, and Julie struggle to suppress her smile. Mildred coughed expectantly.

“I…” began Hecate, clearing her throat and scowling at Julie. “I think I should be getting back.”

“Oh,” said Julie, smirk disappearing. “You sure?”

Hecate nodded.

“But,” she added, “I would love to come for tea tomorrow. If that is permissible, Mildred?”

“Sure,” said Mildred, shrugging. “Why not? As long as you don’t interrupt film night. We’re watching the Lego Movie.”

Hecate stared dumbly between the two Hubbles. Julie felt herself cracking up once more.

“The… Leh-go Movie?”

“Don’t worry,” interrupted Julie, sniggering at Hecate’s confusion. “She won’t.”

Mildred nodded slightly, then flounced off and disappeared down the corridor, dragging her luggage behind her.

Hecate turned back to Julie and glared at her. Julie burst into a fit of giggles.

“Well, I’m glad _you_ find this entertaining.”

“You should’ve seen your face!”

“Yes, har har I looked very confused, can we get back to Mildred, please?”

Julie tried to control herself, coughing and slowing her laughter. Eventually she leant against Hecate and wiped her eyes.

“Okay,” she murmured, still chuckling. “Okay. I’m back, I’m good.”

Hecate tried to be angry, but ended up smiling despite herself.

“Do you think we should tell her properly?” she asked, looking at Julie cautiously.

“No,” said Julie, shaking her head as her laughter finally ceased. “No, I think one shock at a time is enough. And, to be honest with you, she probably already knows, at least to an extent.”

Julie snuggled into her and Hecate sighed, raising her arm and placing it around Julie’s shoulder. Julie hummed thoughtfully.

“Do you really have to go back?”

“Yes,” Hecate said, nodding slightly. “There’s still work to do, and I didn’t want to crowd her.”

“Yeah,” conceded Julie, shutting her eyes and leaning into her, “That’s probably for the best.”

There was a crash from Mildred’s bedroom and they jumped apart suddenly. Mildred swore loudly and Julie started smirking again. Hecate rolled her eyes.

“You had better go,” said Julie, gently, nudging Hecate with her knees.

“You’re right,” Hecate replied, kissing Julie lightly on the cheek, “You’re right.”

She stood up and straightened out her dress.

“You will come tomorrow though, won’t you?” asked Julie, “For movie night? We’re eating at seven.”

Hecate rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I will be at ‘ _movie_ _night_.’”

“Good, good,” hummed Julie, smiling contentedly.

\---

Hecate was there on movie night. She was there on the movie night after that, and the one after that too. She very rarely understood what was happening, but was delighted to take part nonetheless. When summer term began things inevitably shifted once more, and she was back to being Mildred’s classroom teacher, but her position in Julie’s life only solidified. She took Hecate on the train, the bus, took her to the cinema, forced her to go to one short-lived yoga class; Hecate in turn took Julie flying, had her mix potions in the Hubbles’ kitchen, spent hours explaining the properties of various ingredients and plants, and the reactions that took place when they were mixed.

They did not always understand each other’s world. There were times when Julie came home from a particularly exhausting shift and Hecate was incapable of empathising; there were times when school drama absorbed so much of Hecate’s attention that she had no time for Julie, and Julie was left angry and hurt at the dismissal. But they made it work.

When summer inevitably rolled around Mildred kept up an air of nonchalance regarding Hecate’s presence. It was not until her fourteenth birthday, when Julie took her to the aquarium, that she finally seemed to warm up to her teacher. Hecate had met them there, giving Mildred a small gift of wildflower seeds. Mildred had gloomily shuffled around the aquarium, eyeing Hecate and Julie warily. That was until about half-way through, when Hecate performed some decidedly unsanctioned magic and helped a school of depressed cuttlefish stage a daring jail-break. Mildred had stared in glee as the dishevelled creatures vanished down the now open aquarium pipes, and even Julie had been taken aback at Hecate’s uncharacteristic spontaneity. Hecate had merely shrugged and blamed Julie for dousing her with second-hand altruism.

After that fateful July day Mildred viewed Hecate with fresh eyes. She no longer tolerated but accepted her presence in Julie’s life, even asking Hecate if she wanted to come on the Hubble biennial beach trip. At the time Hecate had simply laughed and politely declined, but a year later she found herself on a beach in Cornwall, standing on a freezing beach and surrounded by three Hubble women and one excitable Hubble teenager.

Mildred’s grades went up and up. The combination of Hecate’s newfound gentleness and Julie’s fresh understanding of the magical world fuelled her success, and when third year came to a close Mildred was averaging a D-. By the end of fourth year, after the unfortunate Cornwall trip and a grievous misunderstanding of the non-magical ‘Valentine’s Day’, Mildred’s grades were at a B. By the end of fifth year she had a scholarship to Weirdsister College. Julie was over the moon, filled with more joy than she ever thought possible, and even Hecate was overwhelmingly proud, applauding louder than anyone when Mildred went up to receive her secondary school certificates.

With Mildred at Weirdsister College and out of Hecate’s direct line of fire, what little tension was left in the Hubble-Hardbroom household thawed. Mildred came back at Christmas to roast turkey and crackers that released genuine spits of fire. They had watched films, played board games with Mildred’s family, and for the first time Hecate had stayed over without Mildred admonishing her mother and grimacing.

During Mildred’s second year at Weirdsister College both parties were racked by a disproportionate number of inter-familial events. Julie accompanied Hecate to Pippa’s second marriage; Hecate helped Julie grieve when Mildred’s grandmother passed away; they both embarrassed Mildred beyond words when she brought her first ‘proper girlfriend’ home to visit. Hecate even began helping out at the New Year’s Eve parties.

Fifteen years later, when Mildred worked at the Bureau for Non-Magical Affairs and Hecate gloomily reduced her working hours, the couple purchased a small cottage on the edge of town, within driving distance of the hospital and transferring distance of Cackle’s. Julie began volunteering at a homelessness shelter on her days off, and every so often Hecate would stop by too, bringing mysteriously surplus rations with her.

The world rumbled on as slowly and courteously as it could. Things went wrong and people changed; things went right and people changed. But Hecate and Julie built a life for themselves in the pokey cottage on the edge of town, where the spice rack held as much dragon wart as it did coriander, and black cats waged war against surprisingly ruthless garden birds.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm putting this here because lazy and terrible but thank you so much for all your wonderful comments!!! they really mean a lot to me. i know i don't respond to everything (anything), but i do read them all, and i really appreciate the kind words ❤


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